


What Would We Be Without a Near Death Experience?

by Flutterbye_5, HeartxOfxStone



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Actual real life puppy Isaac Lahey, Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Claiming, Derek and Peter speak Spanish because why not, Derek and Stiles are Mates, Derek is a Good Alpha, F/M, Fluff to the max, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Night Terrors, Nogitsune Stiles, Pack Feels, Pack Mom Stiles Stilinski, Polish makes an appearance too, Stilinski Family Feels, Torture, We like to cry, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski, alpha pair, but also sad, hale pack feels, mate bond, slight PTSD, slightly OOC derek, the pack are Stiles' pups
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-09
Updated: 2014-07-09
Packaged: 2018-02-08 02:20:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1923069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Flutterbye_5/pseuds/Flutterbye_5, https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartxOfxStone/pseuds/HeartxOfxStone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He got up from Stiles' bed and took one last deep breath in of the concentrated mixed scent of Stiles and himself. He couldn't keep the tears from escaping from his eyes, it was a pain that he could feel all over every fiber of his being. He was halfway out the window with a bittersweet smile on his face remembering all of the times he had sneaked in just to get Stiles' heart racing, when he heard Stiles sobbing and the pounding of a hand into what he could assume was the Sheriff's chest. It was then that he remembered his promise to Stiles, <em>"I'll be here, I'm staying I promise, forever."</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Call to Lovers

**Author's Note:**

> Yet another one of Flutterbye_5 and my own's ideas. We wanted it to be short, really, we did. But we ended up with just under 30k so we hope you love it as much as we do. Comments are much appreciated.

Chris threatened to kill Stiles, aiming his loaded gun at his head with the safety off. Derek, only able to sit there and watch the scene unfold, felt a slow burning rage building in his chest.

“Shoot me!” Stiles roared, eyebrows creased and teeth bared. “Shoot me!”

After being thrown into the wall by Sti- the nogitsune, Derek was rendered voiceless. The air was knocked from his lungs, and he wasn’t healing like he should have been. 

“Stiles,” he hissed urgently, but it was swallowed up by the booming protests of the sheriff’s voice. 

“Come on! Shoot me! Do it!” the thing screamed, shoulders tense. 

Derek felt a whimper rise in his throat, the sides of his eyebrows casting down in sorrow. His eyes were intent on Stiles and for a split moment, as if the sounds escaping him were heard, he was met with the eyes not of the monster but of the boy, devastated and defeated. And at that moment, it happened.

The crack was deafening, the sound echoed across the bare walls. The heated metal sunk into the soft flesh of Stiles’ shoulder, Chris had shot to kill, the point burrowing through fabric and bone. The boy let out a strangled scream, his thin fingers bunching into the tear in his shirt, blood slowly seeping through the cotton. It dripped down his hands, traveling down his wrists in a steady flow.

Derek threw his body into motion, letting out a roar challenging anyone in the room to even think of stepping near Stiles. He landed with unexpected grace, straddling the boy’s body. It was apparent to him that no one saw the moment Stiles was let out, that they had shot the person they were trying to save the whole time. Stiles let out small, quiet whines, his eyes scrunching as traitorous tears trailed down his face.

“D- Derek,” he whimpered, sighing heavily with laboured breaths. “It- it hurts.” 

Derek felt like he received a punch to the gut. 

“It’s g- you’ll be okay Stiles. Y- you have t- you have to be okay.” Derek turned himself, he slowly picked Stiles up whispering warnings to him of being moved. “Stiles, I’m going to yell okay? I don’t want to startle you.”

“Hmm, yeah, yeah Derek that’s fine.” Stiles said in a weakened tone. 

Derek channeled his inner wolf, his voice booming through the room, “Get the fuck out of my way!” 

He swiftly maneuvered out of the loft, black veins running up his arms, carefully carrying the barely breathing body of the one who meant most to him. “I’ll keep you safe,” Derek practically whined. “Everything’s gonna-”

“No, it’s not,” Stiles sighed, weakly grasping the collar of Derek’s coat. “You and I both know, it’s probably not.”

“No you , you’ll be fine. Just please, please Stiles stay awake.” There was no denying that this was the most panic Derek had ever felt in his entire lifetime. 

Stiles caught his attention, gently tugging on his collar. 

“I don’t want the bite Derek, it’s cheating. My mom, sh- she didn’t get a saving grace. It’s not fair.”

“I know, I know we’re going to the hospital, just breathe.”

“Genim,” Stiles murmured.

“What?”

“My name, it’s Genim.”

Derek nearly stopped running. His breathing was heavy and his eyes stung. Hearing Stiles share such important information horrified him, he didn’t want to consider that Stiles was preparing for death.

“When we get out of this, I’m never calling you Stiles again,” he declared with a watery chuckle.

“Don’t count on it,” Stiles smiled weakly. “I won’t let you.” 

Carrying a bloodied Stiles into the emergency wing of the hospital, Derek muttered to himself, his voice thick, “I won’t let them take you from me too.” Before Derek could even react, Stiles was placed on a gurney and rolling down the hallway. 

He collapsed, Derek’s legs giving out underneath him, a sob wracking through his body. It was all too much, the scent of Stiles’ blood burned into his brain. He couldn’t smell anything but blood. It wafted around his nose obscuring all of his senses. His chest heaved, like a dry retch. He thought he might puke. He couldn’t lose anyone else. Not now. Not ever. If this was real, if Stiles died, it would be the final straw. This would break him. He wouldn’t be able to recover.

…..

“Sir I’m incredibly sorry, but you can’t sit here. May I show you to a seat? Do you need a doctor? Can I get you anything?” Derek didn’t even look up. He heard the nurse’s words but they wouldn’t compute. He was cracking. 

“Derek? Derek Hale?” 

Realizing that his name was being called through all of the fog and the torment, he looked up with blurred vision to see Mrs. McCall. She expelled a silent rush of air at the raw pain and concern found in his eyes. 

“Derek come on hun, let’s bring you somewhere a little quieter okay? We can talk about what happened in a more private area.” 

Noticing her composure, Derek used what sense that was available to realize that she didn’t know, she was unaware that the boy that could be her second son, the boy that took Derek’s heart with him into surgery, could be dying.

“It’s, It’s Stiles, Melissa.” He said, voice breaking in the middle of his name. She looked sadly at him.

“What about Stiles, Derek?” she asked quietly, reaching down to help him up. His legs wobbled. 

“He could die, he could die and it’s all my fault,” he cried. 

Wrapping a tentative arm around his hunched shoulders, Melissa sighed.

“If Stiles is anything he’s a fighter. He’ll come back to us. I know it. Now, why don’t we get you cleaned up and you can tell me exactly is going on here.” 

Like a mantra engraved into Derek’s mind he quietly whispered to himself, “He’ll be fine, Stiles will be fine.” He repeated it continuously, breath hitching at every attempt to inhale. “Melissa please just bring me closer I, I need to hear him. I need to hear his heart. I have to know.”

Smiling softly, Melissa rubbed a hand soothingly down his back. 

“The closest I can get you is just outside his assigned room. He’s in surgery, but he’ll be out in the next few hours. You won’t be able to see him until late tonight or early tomorrow, but at least you’ll be close enough to hear everything.” 

Derek’s chest tightened in relief.

“Thank you,” he breathed, curling in on himself.

“We should really get you cle-” Melissa started to say.

“No, if this, if this is the last I have of him I want it for as long as possible.” Derek’s voice sounded muffled and weak to even his own ears. He crouched down, hugging his knees and sat outside the door to the room Stiles would be brought to later because dammit he would make it. “Don’t let anyone past the waiting room. Not Allison or Chris, not Scott, and hell not even his dad. It, it sounds absurd, but my wolf-”

“Say no more darlin’ I will try my best.” As she walked away Derek let everything else fade, tuning in to the heartbeat he has tattooed into his memory. 

"I'll just get you a new shirt and a blanket," Melissa smiled softly. "I'll keep these halls clear. No one but the doctors are gonna get through here."

Derek just nodded weakly, sliding down into the hardwood chair beside the door, focusing on the slightly uneven beat of Stiles' heart. 

"Please be okay," he whined to himself, blunt nails digging into his scalp as he pulled his head towards his knees. 

Two hours seventeen minutes and thirty four seconds later, Stiles' heart stopped. The silence sent Derek into a tailspin, claws piercing through the soft flesh of the palms of his hand. It couldn't end like this, this was supposed to be the one good thing in Derek's life after all of the pain. He didn't even tell Stiles how he felt. It should've been him, of all people it's should've been Derek to go, he after all, had no one to leave behind. 

The tears were freely streaming down his face and his breath did not come easy. He felt like there was a noose around his neck pulling tighter and ti- but then he heard it. The near silent, rhythmic heartbeat that kept Derek sane. It was faint, a dull _thrub thrub_ that bounced off the walls in Derek's head. The pace was too slow, and it stuttered, but it was there. He didn't know whether to laugh or cry harder. A hysterical noise slipped from his lips, small, quiet, but crazed. Reaching up, he carded a still clawed hand through his hair, the curved nails catching in the unruly locks. The noise slipped through his lips again. He closed his eyes. Gripping his hair tight where his hand had come to rest against the back of his head, he pulled the hairs taught and yanked his head against the wall. 

Then Derek Hale let out a quiet sigh of words. So low even he barely heard them. 

"Thank you, God." 

Derek Hale prayed to a God he didn't even believe in. 

It felt like days were passing as he sat against the wall, never calming. No amount of time was short enough for Stiles to be away from him. It was torture to sit and listen to the irregular heart beat, but he couldn't for the life of him pull his mind away. It barely registered in his mind that a bed was being wheeled past him holding Stiles' comatose body. The whimper that escaped past his lips was weak to even his own ears. 

"It's alright, dear," Melissa soothed, coming to stand beside him. "Everything's gonna be okay, just you wait." 

Another tiny whimper slipped past his lips, and he allowed himself the privilege of the comfort Scott's mom provided. He said nothing. He felt her hands slowly guiding him back onto his feet, legs trembling and lead him into the room. 

"I had you included in family okay? You can stay with him through the night so you can be here when he wakes up." He couldn't get his voice to respond, settling for just meeting her eyes with his own. "Derek, sweetie, this is more than it seems isn't it? Stiles he's-"

"Mate. Stiles is mate." Derek rasped, almost making no noise at all, heart tearing at the words. 

"I have a feeling that means more than I'll ever understand fully," she sighed. 

Derek shrugged. He still felt sick to his stomach, the unease and fear and need to _protect_ churning within him, twisting his stomach into knots. He shuffled in quickly, feet dragging. 

Stiles was there, pale and quiet. He wasn't meant to be this quiet for this long. Stiles always had something to say. A light splattering of blood still graced his right cheek from where the medics didn't have enough time to wipe it away completely. Moving to stand beside the bed, Derek fell into the too soft chair. 

Taking a deep breath, Derek cringed. He smelled wrong. Stiles' normally warm scent of cinnamon and light indian cress, a gentle tone of the earthy woods mixed with the almost too strong scent of Adderall was overwhelmed by the smell of blood, antiseptic, too clean hands, and the unmistakable undertone of death that always lurked in the halls of hospitals and settled like a residue on peoples' skin. He shifted the chair closer to the bed, leaning his head against the edge of it, close enough to feel the heat from Stiles' body on his skin. He lifted his hand to lightly grasp Stiles' wrist at the pulse point, needing the physical touch. 

At the same time he used what energy hidden inside of him to take the pain away, lessen his suffering. The black veins cascading up Derek's arms to his chest were keeping him grounded, keeping him in reality. He took it until his entire forearm was black, until he felt lightheaded from it all, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop. His head dropped from fatigue, over and over, his eyes drooping and his lips slackening, his focus - weak though unwavering - never leaving Stiles’ face. 

"Please, wake up. You have to wake up." He whispered with emotion he thought was gone from his mind, before he faded into darkness.  
…...

It was when Derek felt a slight change in pressure, a hand around his own, that he snapped out of his haze coming back to an alert state. When his vision cleared he was met with Stiles’ tired whiskey eyes.

“Der? Why, what happened?” He said in a voice so unlike the one Derek was used to. A sigh left Derek’s lips, tension leaving his body at the moment he realized Stiles really did wake up.

“It’s nothing to worry about right now okay? Just relax.”

“But-” Stiles began, but Derek cut him off.

“It’s alright. Go to sleep. I’ll tell you everything later, I promise.”

“D’nt wanna wake up ’nd f’nd you g’ne,” Stiles mumbled, a slight slur to his speech, the medication catching up to him. “I w’s so scared.”

“I know, baby,” Derek soothed, only catching the endearment once it left his mouth. He hoped he wouldn’t regret it later. Stiles smiled sleepily.

“Stay?”

Derek wished he could say he hesitated, that he thought of the things that will ensue from his decision. He wished he could say he thought of the potential danger he could put Stiles in, or the chance that Stiles just wouldn’t want him, but he didn’t. In fact, he found he couldn’t provide an answer fast enough, insides swelling with emotion.

“Always.”


	2. Rise of the Phoenix

When Derek woke up, not even realizing he had fallen asleep, he looked up to see Stiles peacefully sleeping. 

He couldn’t help himself from carding his fingers gently through the boy’s hair, being rewarded with a small delighted groan. He could feel a small, private smile grace his face at the sound. The relief that coursed through his body was overwhelming. Remembering the term of endearment that had passed his lips the night before set fire in his chest, he didn’t miss the light in Stiles’ eyes when he had said it.

Stiles’ brow furrowed as the morphine began to trickle off and Derek gripped his hand tighter, taking the last dregs of pain into his own body. Stiles sighed and his face smoothed out, relaxing.

“Yo deseo poder decir tú te am-” Derek started, but he couldn’t finish, not out loud. Even when no one else was listening, he just couldn’t.

A sleep riddled voice cut through the thick silence hanging over the room. 

“Mm, Derek, please stay. Don’t go. I can’t, you can’t go too.” 

Derek was baffled by the words. He could never understand how Stiles worked, and that drove him insane.

“I won’t. I promise. I couldn’t if I tried.”

He wasn’t exactly sure if Stiles meant just in the room or forever, but Derek was prepared for both. It hurt to think of the possibility that Stiles didn’t need him like Derek did. Though there was the chance of rejection, he no longer had a doubt in his mind that when Stiles was coherent, he would tell him how he felt. He wouldn’t allow something like this to slip through his fingers.

Stiles slept for hours, and Derek could hear the sheriff down the hall. “Let me see my son!” he yelled.

Derek ignored him. He wanted to care, he really, truly did. He couldn’t bring himself to, though. When Stiles was awake and talking a thousand miles a minute, then Derek would allow people in the room. He would let them in when he knew that everything was okay.

“He hesitated to shoot Chris Argent when he had a gun cocked and aimed at his son.” Derek had told Melissa when she asked why Sheriff shouldn’t be allowed in. “I am not certain that I would be able to control myself if he came in here.” 

Looking back to Stiles, gaze softening, he traced the lines of his face with soft fingertips wanting him to wake, but just ever thankful he was alive.

Melissa sighed, slightly put out. 

“Alright,” she said with tangible hesitation. 

Derek didn’t watch her leave the room. His instincts too strong to ignore in this situation. It was all too much. 

“Come on, baby. You can do it. You can pull through, I know it,” he sighed into the boy’s ear, bending down to nuzzle at the pale skin of Stiles’ neck. “I need you to.” 

Stiles sighed in his sleep, as if he was acknowledging Derek’s wishes. Derek smiled faintly.

Without a clock in the room the passing of time was hard to measure, each minute too long. Hunger wasn’t apparent to him, with him having absolutely no appetite. Another nurse he did not recognize was on shift now, so he must have been in the room with Stiles closing in on a full day, having shown up last night. Stiles’ heartbeat was more regular now that he had been resting. 

For the first time, Derek went to the other side of the bed and laid a hand on the boy’s wounded shoulder, cutting the pain at it’s source. He could feel Stiles stirring, muscles minutely clenching under his skin.

“Derek?” he asked quietly, blinking and lifting his arm to grasp the hand on his shoulder.

“I’m here,” Derek replied, moving his other hand to cup the side of Stiles’ neck. He rubbed a thumb along his pulse point, taking comfort from the steady thrum beneath his finger.

“Good.” They stayed like that for a few minutes, taking in the steady air. Stiles leaned into Derek’s hand. “Thank you,” Stiles whispered, nuzzling the palm of Derek’s hand. 

Derek frowned in confusion.

“For what?”

“For just being you.”

“I-”

“I know that you are the one that brought me in, the, the last thing I remember is the sound, that roar, that you made. You protected me from two men with guns, wired on strained emotions. Wh-why would you do that Derek? You don’t even like me.”

“Don’t like you?” Derek asked incredulously. “Stiles- Genim Stilinski, don’t think for one second that I don’t _like_ you!”

“Then what?” Stiles exclaimed, clutching Derek’s hand tighter. “Why do you ignore me, or yell at me, or tell me to shut up, or shove me up against any available hard surface?” 

Derek flushed. How the hell was he supposed to tell Stiles that his actions equated to a little boy pulling his crush’s pigtails?

Knowing there was no one more understanding to reveal this to, Derek told him the truth. In a whisper almost too low to perceive, Derek spoke. 

“I don’t want to get hurt again.”

“D- Derek what are you, are you, do you-”

“Yes.”

“I need you to say it.”

Derek’s heart pounded. “W- why?” His fingers trembled slightly.

“Because I’ve spent my entire life assuming and more often than not, I’m wrong. So please, just this once, tell me I’m right,” Stiles’ voice cracked.

Derek let out a shuddering breath. 

“Genim, cielito, I want to hold your hand. I want to fall asleep with you in my arms and wake up to you as the first thing I see each and everyday. I want to cover you in my scent, and I in yours. I want to make you pack. I want to kiss you breathless, and watch you unravel beneath me. Damnit I just, I lo-” but it got stuck in Derek’s throat. He wasn’t ready. He wasn’t sure he would ever be able to say it smoothly.

“It’s okay,” Stiles whispered, sensing Derek’s distress, running his nose along the seam of Derek’s hand.

“No. It’s not,” Derek sighed. “I- Jesus- I lo- love you.” 

Taking what small courage that Derek had, he slowly moved in and placed his lips on Stiles’. It was slow, and soft, and needy, and perfect. The taste of Stiles on his lips was better than he had ever imagined, sending his heart on a wild pace. Stiles moaned at the feeling created by Derek’s stubble against the soft skin. It only motivated Derek even more, to press them closer together.

A whine escaped the back of Derek’s throat as Stiles pulled away hesitantly, not wanting the moment to shatter around him. He lifted his good arm and tangled his fingers into Derek’s hair and whispered, nearly low enough to escape Derek’s heightened senses.

“I love you too, Der. My mate.”

“How… How do you know that word?” Derek asked tentatively, pulling back slightly to look Stiles in the eye.

“I’m a researcher, Derek. Knowing things about the pack and the pups is practically my day job. I couldn’t have thought of anyone better to have as my mate.”

Derek smiled slightly. “Mate. Yeah, you’re my mate.” Just then a thought popped into Derek’s mind that had him smirking wickedly. “Hey Stiles?” he said, the smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah Sourwolf?”

Derek’s heart clenched at the sound of the nickname that had come up only a short time after they had met. He knew Stiles did it to annoy him, but he could only find it endearing.

“Genim, you get to tell your dad.”

As the horror set in on Stiles’ face, eyes growing wide with fear and his jaw falling to the floor, Derek’s smirk turned into a full blown grin and before he knew it, he found himself bent over hysterically laughing. 

“Now that! That is not fair, Derek Hale!” Stiles exclaimed, extending a finger towards the hysterical werewolf. 

Derek just kept laughing until happy tears pooled in his eyes. 

“Oh my God, I think I broke him!” Stiles cried playfully to no one in particular. “I’ve broken him!”

When Derek recovered from his fit of laughter, he moved in to kiss Stiles again. 

“I can do moral support, but you’re the one that’s gonna be talking,” he conceded, running a hand through Stiles’ hair.

“Useless!” Stiles laughed.

When their lips met for the second time, it was just as shocking to Derek’s system as the first. They were both smiling into the kiss, rendering it basically useless, but it didn’t matter. The scent of Stiles around him was strong as he moved away from his mouth, peppering kisses down his jaw ending his journey at the junction where Stiles’ neck met his shoulder, just resting his forehead there and simply breathing.

“I love this. I love you.” Stiles whispered reverently, raising his hand to smooth his fingers against the edge of Derek’s hairline.

“I… I love you too.”

It came easier this time, the words smoother on the way out. 

Stiles beamed.

“Let me inside that scruffy head of yours big guy. Tell me what you’re thinking about.”

“It’s- I feel bliss. Piensè,” Derek’s voice caught on his words, “I thought I was going to lose you, and all I could think was that I would never get this with you. I thought I would never get my mate, my life long love. Y- your heart stopped Stiles. I lived without your heart beating for 86 seconds, and I nearly lost it. Me horroricé. Just, God Stiles, I love you so much.”

Stiles’ eyes softened.

“I’ll do my best to never scare you like that again. But only if you promise me to do the same.”

Derek bent to rest his head on Stiles’ shoulder.

“I swear it.”

They sat, bent like that, for a few more minutes, before Stiles said something.

“Why don’t you climb on in, Sourwolf? There’s plenty of room for two, yeah?”

Derek hummed and climbed in beside his mate, careful not to jostle his shoulder.

“You know we’re going to have to let them in eventually, right?”

Derek didn’t have to ask who “them” was, he knew.

“I know, but not now.”

“I can handle that,” Stiles smiled. “ I can most definitely handle that.”

Derek found himself dozing off, one leg thrown over both of Stiles’ and an arm curled over his torso. Derek’s head was on top of Stiles’ heart, not only hearing it’s elevated beat, but feeling it as well. He slipped into a state of unconsciousness, Stiles’ hand massaging into his scalp and a light kiss to the top of his head was the last thing he felt.

They slept for a few more hours before they were jostled awake by the door slamming open. 

"¿Que?" Derek mumbled, so low Stiles couldn't even hear. 

The sheriff barged in, clearly distraught and rumpled. He took one look at Derek curled around his son’s body and promptly turned an impressive shade of red.

“What is going on here?” he seethed quietly.

“Heh,” Stiles laughed nervously, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Funny thing, Dad.”

“Huh funny thing, of course it’s a funny thing,” Sheriff says under his breath, already grumbling. “Stiles he’s had everyone kept out of this room for two days!”

“Dad he was only keeping you safe. It wasn’t safe to be around him.”

Stiles could see that rationalizing with his father would be difficult, but he would try his hardest if it meant the end result would allow him to be with Derek easily.

“Please, Stiles, do tell me how if it was not safe for me, that it was safe for you!”

Stiles felt Derek flinch, his body tensing around his own. He moved his hand involuntarily to the space where Derek’s tattoo was and gently drew spirals on the skin, instantly feeling Derek relax.

“Dad,” Stiles said slowly, “Derek can’t hurt me. I’m uh, I’m his mate.”

“Mate?” the sheriff exclaimed. “This isn’t a Sci-Fi movie, Stiles!” 

With each word that left his father’s mouth, Derek curled into Stiles a bit more, trying not to hear.

“You think this is a joke, Dad? It's not like this werewolf thing is new to you anymore,” Stiles practically yelled. “You think that this is just something you can condemn and belittle all you want? You’re wrong!”

Stiles took a deep breath, trying to level with his father’s perspective. His hand had flattened out on Derek’s back, rubbing back and forth in a slow, calming motion.

“Dad, my life has been a Sci-Fi movie since the day Scott got turned. When will you realize this?! This isn’t a joke, I’m not trying to pull a fast one on you. I am telling you the truth, and here you are again, just like when I tried to tell you about werewolves the first time, not freaking believing a word I’m saying!”

Feeling Stiles getting distraught, Derek stroked his thumb back and forth on Stiles’ ribs.

“Y- you did the same exact thing when I tried to tell you that I was gay! Well, bi, but really the same thing because it’s just Derek and it will only ever be Derek, no other girls or guys!” Stiles felt, more than heard his voice crack while he was talking, but he knew he had to somehow drive his point across to his father. 

"Could you please just sit down and listen to me for once? I understand that this concept is difficult for you, and I understand if it takes some time for you to adjust, but would you please just _try_?" Stiles exclaimed, his tone turning weary towards the end. He leaned his forehead against the top of Derek's head and took a deep breath. Derek shuffled even closer, pressing his nose into the crook of Stiles' neck. 

Derek wished that he could say something, but he knew that any words that left his mouth right now would not be kind. Or productive. 

"When you decide to take this crazy life I have seriously," Stiles said weakly, without even lifting his head. "Then come back, but right now I do not have the energy to fight with you, because yah know I was shot by a werewolf hunter because I was possessed by a nogitsune. So please, just go."

Derek knew it was difficult for Stiles to say those kind of things to his dad, but he could feel the desperation, the want for him to just accept Stiles for once. 

The sheriff sighed. He didn't like it. Not at all, but he couldn't do anything about it, not really. His son may be seventeen, but he had been making consecutive responsible decisions since he was a child. Once Stiles committed, there was no going back. 

"Okay," he sighed. "I'm not ready to talk about this, and you're not ready to make me listen. We are going to talk about this later, once you're out of here."

When the sheriff left the room the first thing Derek heard was a choked sob coming from Stiles. He sat up and used the tips of his fingers to tilt up Stiles' chin. Derek was met with the sight of glassy eyes and trembling lips. 

"Stiles, bendito, talk to me please." Derek whispered, placing a light kiss on the boy's cheek.

"He- He just never _listens_ ," Stiles cried, little crystalline drops dripping down his cheeks. "This always happens! It's always, 'Stiles not now' or 'That's ridiculous.' And I _hate_ it. Why can't anyone just _listen_ for once? Why?"

Derek held him as he cried, running a hand smoothly through Stiles' hair. He looked Stiles in the eyes, letting him know that he was listening but never said anything. Stiles didn't need words, he needed acknowledgement. And Derek gave it. 

Derek knew that every time that footsteps could be heard coming down the hall Stiles would perk up, hoping it would be his dad. And every time, it wasn't. Derek could see it was eating away at him, the longer his dad took to come back, so he took the situation upon himself. He was no longer able to sit around while Stiles, his _mate_ , was miserable. It hurt to see him like that and Derek would do anything to get that smile back on his face.


	3. Family Matters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys kinda short this time

"Babe, I have to go out for a bit, but as soon as I'm done I swear to you, I will come straight back." Stiles nodded into his shoulder where his head was resting, and Derek slowly pulled away from him, kissing three times softly on the lips before he walked out the door.

When he exited the room, Derek immediately found Sheriff Stilinski's scent and followed it. He found him in the food court, eating some fries. 

"Make sure Stiles doesn't find out," he said, coming up beside the sheriff. The man jumped. 

"I thought you were with my son," he said tightly. 

"I was," Derek conceded. "But he needed some time to think and I figured I would be of more use here, explaining some things to you."

"Oh."

"I would tell you all that you want to know Sheriff if I knew what you wanted. Why? What does mate mean? Since when were you gay? Did you force my son into this? I will answer any question you ask if it gets yours and Stiles relationship fixed and allows mine and Stiles' relationship to be supported." Derek had ended with a large exhale, sitting down in the chair across from his mate's father. 

The sheriff stayed still, eyes wide for a few moments. 

"All of the above," he admitted, looking the alpha in the eyes. 

"I don't want to overwhelm you. Ask and I'll answer." 

The sheriff sighed. 

"Fine. Why did this happen?" 

Derek pulled up a chair and sat down. 

"When a wolf finds its mate, there's no going back. For the wolf, anyway. It's whoever their inner wolf has chosen. It's based on smell and the feelings that the potential mate emits. They feel good, feel like they fit, like home. Gender and sex doesn't matter. It all has to do with the mind. Our wolves are instinctual, but they know what they want and what they need. I need Stiles. And if I'm lucky, he needs me too."

"When did you realize it was Stiles?" The Sheriff was baffled to be quite honest. It blew his mind, the honesty he heard in Derek's voice when he spoke so highly of his son.

"It was after the fire, or during for that matter. But Laura had swept us away to New York the following day so I never had the chance to form a bond. Over such a long period of time he slipped from my mind without it," Derek stated. 

"When I came back, Stiles and Scott were looking for an inhaler Scott had dropped the night he got bitten. They wandered onto the property and I came out to warn them off, only to be hit with Stiles' scent. It was an overwhelming experience on all of my senses. When I registered the scent it was automatic, 'Mate' rang through my thoughts. I struggled through telling them to leave that day, and I just guess that over time spent around him, the human side of me fell too."

"Why didn't you say something when you found out?" the sheriff asked, suspicious. 

Derek sighed. "You have to understand, sir, that when I was Stiles' age, barely sixteen, not even, I thought that I was in love. And I was wrong. I didn't want to put that on him, and I've come far enough to acknowledge that I wasn't ready for a relationship then either. My sister had just been murdered, and I had just returned to the place where my family was brutally killed by my ex-girlfriend. I was guilt ridden and broken, and arguably, still am. Human mates aren't uncommon, but it doesn't happen all the time. Sometimes, if you tell them too soon, they turn away, feeling as if they don't have a choice, even if they do, leaving the wolf to slowly burn with love and need for them. I'd rather be his friend and be there for him, than never see him at all." 

"I- is he angry? I think I understand now, but I just need to know what I'm coming in to." Derek looked at Stiles' father and saw the deep set concerns and the forced worry lines on his face. 

"To be blunt, he feels neglected. He feels like you don't take him seriously, and sure his life isn't average but it doesn't make it any less of an everyday struggle. He uh he told me that you brushed off him trying to tell you he was bi... I- speaking from personal experience, I told Peter that I thought I was gay in high school, before I had met Kate." Derek could barely believe the words coming out of his mouth. He had never told anyone this part of the story. 

"He told me I was ridiculous, that since I had never shared a bed with someone that I couldn't be sure, and look where that landed me. It's just really important for Stiles to be acknowledged and it's even more important to him when it's from you."

The sheriff stared off, pensive. 

"I... I think you might just be right. It's not going to be easy, but I think that I can come to accept this." 

Derek gave him a small smile. 

"I'm glad. Don't let him turn into me." 

And with those last few words, Derek turned to leave.

Sheriff called out to Derek so he turned to meet the man's eyes. "Derek , Chris s-"

"Tell Chris Argent, that if I ever see him anywhere near Stiles again with any kind of weapon, that I will rip his throat out. With my teeth." When Derek saw the man nod, he continued on his journey back to Stiles' room. 

Closing the door behind him he looked up and was met with the doe eyed look he had come to love. 

"Der?" he asked tentatively, twisting the stark white sheets between his fingers. 

Derek smiled slightly. He'd never smiled this much in his life. 

"I've spoken with your father," he said quietly, approaching the bed and climbing in. "It's not perfect, but I think he'll be a bit more understanding now." 

Stiles didn't need to say anything for Derek to know that he was thankful. He snuggled closer to his mate, tucking his head into Derek's shoulder. Derek hummed happily. And whoa. Derek Hale was happy.

"Hey Babe?" Stiles said mischievously, air brushing over the tendons in Derek's neck. "You get to tell the pack." 

At those words Derek snapped up, throwing his head into his hands. "I take it all back, I actually hate you," mumbled Derek through his fingers. 

"Is, is that Mr. Broody McBrooderpants making a joke?" Stiles spit out between bursts of laughter.

"You'll never know," Derek mumbled, turning to bury his face in Stiles' hair. 

"Mhmm, sure," Stiles grinned. 

Derek chuckled quietly. 

"Fine, but you tell Scott." 

Stiles groaned. "Can we just not tell Scott? He'll just get all meeehhh and tell me how I hate you and how it's weird and how it's not gonna work and ugh." 

Derek huffed a small laugh at his mate's exasperation, but stopped. 

"Genim I think I have and idea." Stiles perked up at the perfect pronunciation of his given name. 

"First, Der I love the way my name sounds leaving your lips don't ever stop saying it. It's been too long since it's been used," Stiles said, eyes glowing with pure adoration. "While I'm at it, don't even get me started on how much I love the Spanish. And second, do tell my dear schemer."

"Well, how about we just don't tell them. And we'll just surprise them all, yeah?"

"Oh my God you are brilliant!" Stiles cried with a laugh, kissing Derek soundly on the lips. They kissed for a few minutes, lips meeting and hands smoothing over hips. 

"I can't wait to see the look on all their faces," Stiles whispered happily against Derek's lips. 

"Scott may have a heart attack," Derek smiled. 

"Eh he deserves it for putting me through his Alison phase." 

Derek laughed. 

"This, is very true."


	4. Armestice

"So I get to go home today.. Can, can you tell me what happened to me? I know the things it made me do, but I can't remember everything about the loft. The only thing that is clear was the roar that sounded like it ripped open your chest." Derek met Stiles' eyes, wary of telling him but knowing he needed too. Stiles wouldn't be at ease until he knew.

"Stiles... Chris Argent shot you," Derek said quietly, fists clenching and jaw tight. 

"Oh," Stiles breathed. "Well." 

"That's it? That's all you have to say?" Derek asked incredulously. 

"What do you want me to say, Derek?"

And all of a sudden Stiles looked very old. 

Derek sighed, reaching up to cup Stiles' cheek. 

"Nothing. You don't have to say anything. I just want you to be okay."

"Der please get me out of here. I just really need to just be alone with you right now." 

At Stiles' request Derek hit the nurses call button to get a final evaluation on Stiles and then they both went to the desk to have him discharged. Driving back to Stiles' house, they sat in comfortable silence, their fingers intertwined on the center console. When they reached the house, Derek was out of the car with Stiles in his arms walking towards the house before Stiles could even realize. 

"You didn't have to carry me," he whispered, tucking his head into the crook of Derek's shoulder. 

"I know," Derek hummed, nuzzling the top of the boy's head. 

When they reached the top of the stairs and entered Stiles' room, the scissor was still jammed into the center of his bed, red strings knotted and tacked to the walls and cool metal. Stiles had to look away. 

Gently, Derek placed him down in his computer chair, and with a single clawed finger, cut each string, allowing them to snap and settle before ripping the scissors from the frame. 

Stiles hadn't looked up from his lap when Derek came to lift him again. 

After Derek laid Stiles on the bed, he reached for the comforter strewn on the floor and placed it over Stiles' shoulders before clamoring in beside him. 

"Der, does this, do I have to turn?" Stiles questioned, voice pure curiosity. Derek gently bit down over on Stiles' left shoulder with blunt human teeth. 

"Most in our position do, it solidifies the bond. More times than not a human mate is turned, but it's not a necessity and it doesn't need to happen now." 

Stiles hummed in agreement. "Tell me what it feels like," Stiles murmured, shuffling further back against Derek's chest.

"It's like a constant hum whenever you're around. I feel you more strongly than the rest of the pack, even when I'm not tuned into you specifically. As soon as you come into view my wolf calms. I'll hear your voice and the wolf will start to whine, wanting to get as close as possible, wanting to feel the words vibrate through your chest. When you touch me, like right now," Derek mentioned, focusing on the sensation, "my skin tingles in a way that I can't really explain. You feel like home and safety. Tú eres mis estrellas."

Humming, Stiles turned to face him. Sliding his arms around Derek's neck, Stiles nosed at the soft place above Derek's collarbone. 

"I feel it, too, sometimes. It's like a warm static in my head. Sometimes it's hard to grasp, but it's there. You relax me. I can't imagine what it would be like for that feeling to be more intense. But somehow I don't think I could let myself go through a lifetime with you without finding out."

Derek took a quick intake of breath, realizing what that statement implicated.

"It must drive you insane sometimes," Stiles said, voice filled with wonder.

"It can make you insane when you're trying to convince yourself not to tell a 17 year old that you're in love with him and he's your mate, but when you realize that he's the best damn thing that will ever happen to you, you learn to appreciate the insanity. Amor es locura, Amorcito," Derek spoke, punctuating it with a kiss to Stiles' forehead. 

Stiles lifted his face from what was probably his new favorite place on the planet, to catch Derek's eyes. 

When Derek saw the shine in them he couldn't help the words that flowed out, "God I missed that." 

The boy's head quirked to the side, eyes squinting slightly in question. 

"They weren't there when Void was inside. The stars in your eyes."

"Stars?" Stiles asked, and there was a sad undertone to his voice, like he knew that it tore Derek apart to see everything good leak from him. 

"Your eyes glimmer, soft and pure when you look at something that matters. It's always reminded me of the stars. I've missed it. Missed you."

Stiles clutched to Derek tighter, lining his body up with the older man's. 

"I never want to be so far gone ever again," Stiles' voice cracked. 

Derek held his mate to his chest, moving him so he was lying on Derek's body, with Derek flat on his back. Stiles immediately curled into him, wrapping around him like it was the only thing he knew to do. 

"I promise you Stiles I will do anything to keep you safe," Derek whispered, running light fingertips over Stiles' wound, taking small amounts of pain without fault.

Stiles nuzzled into Derek, and laid an ear over his heart. They were both finally relaxed, laying together in the inbetween state of awake and sleep. The sound of the Sheriff entering the house didn't alert either of them, knowing what would come this time.

The sheriff ambled into the room, steps stuttering slightly from fatigue. His shoulders rolled when he saw them curled together, running a weary hand over his face. 

"We... We can talk tomorrow if you want," he sighed. 

"You know I won't-" Stiles choked on the word,knowing it has been too long since he's had a full night's rest, "sleep if we don't talk now." 

As the words were being said he pulled off Derek leaving a feather light kiss on his lips, crossed the room gesturing for his father to lead the way, and shut the door behind him as he headed towards the stairs.

Stiles' steps were heavy, trudging across the floors and down the stairs to the kitchen. 

"Please don't be too harsh with your words. He can and will hear almost every one of them, and I want him to," Stiles sighed, falling heavily into a chair at the table, kneading his sore shoulder. He would have to ask for Derek to take some more of the strain later. 

"Stiles, I don't know what you want me to say. You're seventeen for Christ's sake! You expect me to believe that this- this mate thing is what you're going to want for the rest of your life? You have a hard time choosing what t-shirt to wear because you feel bad if you wear one too much. You're a child." 

Stiles mood darkened realizing there was only one way to get his dad to see his way and he hated using her as an excuse. 

"I haven't been a kid since I was sitting alone in a hospital room and had to listen to my mom's heart stop beating." 

The world stopped for a second. 

"Stiles, that's not fair I-" 

"No, Dad. You don't get to pull that shit on me. You don't get to play the victim here. I watched my mother die. _Alone_. You weren't there watching her forget everything. You didn't see her forget her own name, or who I was. She asked for my name on a daily basis towards the end. You have no _right_. You wanted to pretend that it wasn't real and I let you! I - Jesus - I let you. Because that was how you coped. I was eight, Dad, eight! And I went to school and rode my bike to the hospital and I did my homework and I ate whatever was in the pantry when you worked late, which was more often than not so don't you _dare_ tell me that I am a child because I haven't been one in nearly ten years, and you took part in taking that away from me."

Stiles was out of breath by the time his speech was over and he fought to keep the tears back. While Stiles was talking, he came closer and closer to his father, punctuating words with hits to the chest. By the time he was done, his dad had wrestled his arms around Stiles' thrashing body and held him tightly. All at once the Sheriff could feel the fight leave his son's body, becoming pliant in his arms, fully held up by John's strength. 

"How could you do that to me?" His son sobbed, breathless. 

"Dammit Stiles, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."

"Sorry-" a sob choked him off. "Sorry doesn't change things, Dad! I'll never get those years back! Never!" 

Stiles shuddered, grasping tightly to John's uniform. He wanted to push him away, to scream at him from the corner like a wounded animal. He wanted to hate his dad. _Hate_ him. But he couldn't. God, he couldn't. It was his _dad_. He couldn't hate him. And when John turned to the bottle when Stiles was nine, he cleaned up the empty bottles and got angry and cried and threw some of the bottles against the side of the house until they shattered, but he could never hate his father. 

"God, _help_ me," he shuddered and cried. "I- I _fuck_!"   
…..

Derek was immobilized. He had sat up on the bed, legs hanging over the edge. Laying his head in his hands, he felt a full body tremor run down his spine. _He_ caused this. Stiles and his dad are fighting because of _him_. 

"Dios ayuda me," he moaned painfully, gripping his hair tightly, claws digging into his scalp. 

Derek felt like he was too tight for his own skin, uncomfortable with the fact that the two people that should never be fighting so harshly were having it out a floor below him. He always knew the Luna had it out for him, playing his life along as a joke. The torture started with him causing his own family's demise, followed by having to murder Peter, only to have him come back to life, for killing his last grasp on sanity, Laura, and the night would end and Derek would have to live life in a hell with his mate just out of reach because that is just his luck. 

He got up from Stiles' bed and took one last deep breath in of the concentrated mixed scent of Stiles and himself. He couldn't keep the tears from escaping from his eyes, it was a pain that he could feel all over every fiber of his being. He was halfway out the window with a bittersweet smile on his face remembering all of the times he had sneaked in just to get Stiles' heart racing, when he heard Stiles sobbing and the pounding of a hand into what he could assume was the Sheriff's chest. It was then that he remembered his promise to Stiles, _"I'll be here, I'm staying I promise, forever."_

He sighed, gritting his teeth. Now wasn't the time to be a martyr. Moving back to the bed, Derek kicked the frame harshly. 

Gripping his hair tightly, Derek let out a low, agonizing groan. He could feel it, the pain, the need for acceptance, all of it. He knew that Stiles hurt, just as much as him, but feeling it so closely, so intensely all at once, it was like getting branded. This wasn't the slow burn he felt sometimes late at night or in the middle of the day. No. This, this was an inferno.   
.....

"Stiles I love you and, and I wish I could go back and change all of the regrets that I hold," Sheriff said, fingers stroking through his son's hair, "but I can't and all I can do is try and keep you safe now and that's what I'm trying to do but I don't even know what's safe and what's not anymore in this new supernatural world. I just don't want to see you coming home bruised and battered anymore feeling like you have to lie to me that one of the uh the pack members went too hard on you. I think, I think I can handle that you are Derek's mate, but please just don't leave me in the dark anymore yeah?"

He could feel the slight nod of the boy's head. 

"Now go back upstairs and calm down your mate, I can practically feel him pacing a rut into the floor."

Stiles smiled weakly. His dad was trying. He was actually trying. 

"Thank you," he whispered, pulling his dad closer into a hesitant embrace. "I'll try to tell you everything from now on." 

"That's all I ask," the sheriff sighed, pulling his son closer. 

Stiles pulled away awkwardly, eager for this to be over and for him to be able to go back to Derek. 

Their relationship wasn't completely healed, and there was still a lot of resentment on Stiles' part that can't and won't just go away overnight, but it was mending. Past hurts were laid out on the table and they had finally begun to pick through it and put the pieces back together.   
.....

Stiles went up the stairs and could hear Derek still his paces. He found him sitting in his desk chair with his head in his hands, fingers tugging on the black tufts of hair. 

"Derek?" Stiles said, quietly with worry tangled into his voice. 

"I almost left." 

Derek didn't need to tune into Stiles to hear the gasp brought in through clenched teeth. 

"I almost broke my promise to you Genim, and it hasn't even been a full day yet." His voice was that of someone who was barely holding control of themselves, every emotion bursting at the gate.

Stiles' breath shuddered. 

"W...why?" he practically cried. 

Derek shook his head furiously. 

"I heard you yelling, and crying and _I_ did that. You would have never had to have felt like that if I hadn't made you talk to him by starting this," Derek mumbled. 

Stiles let out a hysterical laugh. 

"Are you fucking kidding me?" he yelled. "Derek Hale you did nothing! You love me and I love you and we needed that conversation. It would have happened anyway. Unless you regret everything?" 

Stiles' eyes got sad. 

Derek burst up. 

"Oh God no! No, never! I would never regret loving you or being with you!" Derek cried. 

Stiles smiled, but some hurt was still there 

"See? Stop being a martyr."

"I- I don't know if I know how to," Derek said with pure honesty, cupping Stiles' face in his hands. "It started before Kate you know? Her name was Paige, and I think in the way a 14 year old loves, that I loved her. She got bitten and- and it didn't take. I had to kill her, she was in so much pain and I just couldn't let her suffer, it hurt too much. She would still be alive if I never got involved with her. It started there, and got continuously worse. No te mereces me."

"You know what they say. After every storm comes a rainbow, Derek. You've just got to brave the wind. I'm your rainbow. And you're mine." Stiles smiled. "That sounded better in my head."

Derek laughed half-heartedly. 

"Yeah," he whispered weakly, but Stiles knew he wasn't quite there yet.

"Babe," Stiles said, respecting that Derek needed time to realize that this, that he wasn't going anywhere. "Can we have that meeting now?" 

Derek huffed a quiet laugh, "Of course, go shower because as much as it kills me, if we don't want them to know, we can't have you smelling like me."

"I have a feeling that I'll smell like you either way," Stiles laughed, moving past Derek, swatting his bottom. 

Derek chuckled, pulling Stiles close and kissing him swiftly before pushing him towards the door. 

"Pretense, Stiles, pretense!" he called laughing. 

When Stiles came out of the bathroom all freshly de-scented and squeaky clean, all traces of Derek were gone except for a note on the bed. 

In Derek's fancy script, which Stiles would absolutely never get over and totally didn't turn him on in the slightest bit, it said, _The pack will be meeting at the old house at 8 o'clock. I think you should be able to drive since I've been taking your pain so there should be no problem. I love you cariño. -Der_

Holding back a very demasculating squeal at the last words, Stiles looked at the clock seeing that he had half an hour before he had to head over. 

Throwing on the first shirt and pair of pants he could get his hands on, and slipped on his sneakers. Clamoring down the stairs, Stiles ran into the kitchen and grabbed a poptart from the cabinet. Maybe he'd leave early and get the pack breakfast. Yeah, he'd do that.


	5. Blood of the Covenant

When Stiles arrived at the door, which could be called unnecessary, with a mountain of bagels and cream cheese and such, it swung open to reveal Scott. Of course Derek told him a later time to show up rather than giving him the real time. It set Stiles' insides on fire, wondering if Derek did so because he wouldn't be able to keep from mixing Stiles' scent with his own if they were alone.

Stiles smiled secretly at his shoes at the thought as Scott eagerly grabbed the food from him. Scott didn't notice. 

"Hey guys!" he called, walking confidently into the common room. 

"Stiles!" a chorus of voices cheered. 

Isaac tackled him practically to the floor, enveloping Stiles in a bone crushing hug. 

"Isaac," Stiles groaned, smiling slightly, but cringing as his shoulder was jostled. 

"Hey pup," Stiles whispered affectionately into his ear, moving his hands into the boy's mop of blonde curls. He curled around Stiles tighter letting out a high pitched whine. "I can't- Isaac-"

"Isaac I don't think he can breathe." Derek said, trying to muffle his laughter.

"Oh my gosh I'm sorry!" Isaac exclaimed releasing Stiles immediately with panic in his eyes. 

"No no it's fine buddy, see I'm still kicking."

Isaac smiled shyly, thumbing at the hem of his worn t-shirt. 

"We've missed you," he mumbled quietly, peeking at Stiles through his lashes.

Reaching up, Stiles ran a hand lovingly through Isaac's hair. 

"I've missed you too. It's great to be back."

Peter approached Stiles slowly, as if not knowing how his advance would be perceived. He hesitantly wrapped his arms around the smaller boy, taking in a long drag of his untainted scent.

“It’s good to see you back to your own self,” he muttered into Stiles’ ear. “I’ll have you know it’s pretty hard to produce enough sarcasm and dry humor when you’re on your own.”

Derek watched on silently, pleased. The pack really did miss him. He added a light that they couldn't get anywhere else. 

"Alright everyone circle up, we need to talk." Derek spoke with the tone of an Alpha. The pack came 'round, Peter, Lydia, Isaac, Scott, and the twins in formation around Derek with Stiles at point in front of Derek's face. 

"Chris Argent is now a threat." 

As Scott went to protest, Derek stopped him in his tracks, calmly raising a hand.

"No Scott, I will not think about it. Argent shot Stiles in the loft and has placed us into the position we are in now. He neglected to use his senses to realize that Void had left Stiles' body before pulling the trigger."

"But how could he have noticed? It was a split sec-" Derek cut Scott off. 

"Scott," he barked harshly. "We. Are. Not. Discussing. This."

The pack hummed and nodded, agreeing. They gave Scott pointed looks, as Peter emitted a low rumble. Stiles stared quietly down at his hands. 

Scott's hands gripped each other tightly. Everyone knew he still felt something for Allison, even if he didn't say anything about it and despite the fact that he was pursuing Kira. 

"Anyway, I spoke to Kira's mother on the phone-" 

"You what?!"

"Shut up Scott!" exclaimed Stiles. "Kira's mother is the only one that can tell us if the nogitsune is going to come back for a vacation in my body any time soon so I would appreciate it if you. Just. Shut. Up." 

Stiles took notice of how argumentative Scott was with Derek, while the rest of the pack was shocked into silence.

"Stiles!" Scott exclaimed, hurt. 

"No, Scott. You are going to sit down, and you are going to listen. We are at a key point in this situation. We don't know anything as of yet and now we have the chance of finding out. Am I going to get possessed again? How did I break from the nogitsune's hold? Did it let me go, or did I break away? How do we prevent it from happening again? These questions need to be answered, and now that I'm me again, we can finally begin to solve this. So you will listen to your Alpha and you will listen to me, and if you have questions you will ask respectfully like you should. You are a beta and you are to listen before you speak. After we have finished speaking, then you can say what you feel you have to say. But until then, you will show some respect." 

Stiles stood tall, chest heaving slightly from being out of breath, but he was confident and he was calm. 

Derek felt a swell of pride. This, _this,_ was an Alpha's mate. He decided that now was a good a time as any with pride swelling in his chest, to reveal to the pack his other half, and crossed the small circle to where Stiles stood. 

"It's gone Stiles, the nogitsune is gone."

As Derek got closer, recognition lit in Stiles' eyes, filling with relief as well as mischievous excitement. He placed one hand at Stiles' waist and threaded the other hand into his hair, making a thankful note that the boy had grown it out. Dipping down towards his lips he murmured against them, "Have I told you lately that I love you?" Derek sealed his question with a kiss, smiling into it. 

It was short and sweet and Stiles rested his forehead against his mate's replying with a hum, "I think I can recall, but it's a good reminder."

Isaac made a small squealing noise, which he would most definitely deny later. 

"Yes!" he cheered, doing a little squirming dance in his seat. 

The twins made joking retching sounds, but they had small smiles on their faces, like they already knew. Peter huffed a satisfied laugh mumbling a soft, _Finalmente, finally._ Lydia laughed openly, a happy melodious sound. She was clearly glad. The crinkle around her eyes indicated that she may have known more than she let on. The entire pack was elated, while Scott? Scott gaped like a fish. 

"What the fuck?" he practically screamed. 

Cringing slightly, Stiles stepped around Derek to stand in front of Scott. 

"Got a problem buddy ol'pal of mine?" 

Though he was joking, he couldn't help but slightly worry, if Scott couldn't accept this- He couldn't leave Derek, not after he finally has him within reach. 

"A- a _problem_? Stiles this is Derek Hale, you hate him!" 

Stiles could feel Derek flinch, and reached back to intertwine his fingers with his own. 

"Is he forcing you to do this, because I swear to god Stiles!?"

Isaac whimpered at Scott's accusation, Peter, eyes flashing a cold shade of blue, let out a growl at the sound, not wanting to ever hear Isaac so uncomfortable again. Stiles couldn't stop himself from seeing red. How dare Scott even think Derek would pull something like that after, after Kate, and cause Isaac such obvious pain.

Stiles was so furious, he shook. Gritting his teeth, he reached over and yanked Scott up by the ear. It was violent, something an angry mother would do when their child went too far, and pulled Scott's ear to hover near his mouth. 

"Say that again?" he grit, looking Scott in the eye. 

"Stiles-" 

"No, Scott. We've put up with your attitude all day. You interrupt, yell, say things without thinking, and now you've hit the line. Derek and I have been through enough shit - hell, this entire pack has and you are _not_ making things any better. At all. Now," Stiles attempted to take a calming breath. 

"Now. You are going to get one more chance to get your act together and show some respect, or I swear I will teach it to you. I love Derek with my entire being, and he would _never_ force me into _anything_ that I didn't want to do. It took this long for us to finally do something about these feelings that we weren't even sure the other held and you will _not_ try and ruin it. Do you hear me?" 

His voice never rose, it never went an octave higher, but it held a quiet rage in it, loud in it's own right even at a regular volume. Stiles was mad, truly mad, for the first time in a very long time. 

Scott tried not to cower, not to let the fear leak into his subconscious because this was _Stiles_ and Stiles wasn't scary or threatening. 

"I can't-"

"Get out." Stiles said under his breath, almost so low that even the wolves couldn't hear it. 

"I'm sorry but I just-"

"Get the fuck away from my pack Scott. Just- just get out." He couldn't believe it, his own brother couldn't accept this, while he was out carrying a torch for the girl that literally shot arrows into his pack. 

"Scott you need to go. Now." 

It was Isaac that spoke up and stepped in behind Stiles putting a hand in-between his shoulder blades. "You are upsetting my Alpha's mate and that, is not okay." 

"Mate?" Scott scoffed. 

This time this twins rose as well, growling menacingly, taking a step towards Scott. Lydia glared with a fierce fire burning in her eyes that rivaled her hair. Peter’s consistent growling intensified in volume and ferocity. Fed up, Stiles reached out and grasped Scott by the scruff of his neck. Dragging him towards the front door, a major feat for a human, Stiles practically snarled. 

"Get out and don't come back until you've learned your place," he hissed. 

The pack followed him to the door, supporting his decision. This wasn't a one time thing. Scott had gone too far too many times. 

When Scott was out of sight, away from the house, Stiles could feel his resolve break, tears streaming down his face as his knees gave out underneath him. Isaac and Derek ran to his side, Derek dropping in front of him cupping his face and pressing his forehead against the boy's. Isaac came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his torso, laying his head against Stiles' shoulder. Peter kneeled behind Isaac, threading his fingers into Stiles’ hair, massaging gently. Hesitantly, the twins came and put a hand on each of his shoulders, Ethan taking pain from the wounded one. Lydia came up beside them, nuzzling in beside Isaac and claimed Stiles' other shoulder. They sat like that for a few minutes, letting Stiles cry out his pain and sorrow, comforting him. 

"I-"

"Stop Stiles, just let it out, we'll talk about this once we all grasp what just happened. He'll come back babe." 

Isaac's whining increased in volume and Stiles turned to him, causing the others to stand slightly back. 

Crushing the golden haired boy to his chest, he whispered into his hair, "I'll be okay pup, we'll all be okay."

Nodding softly into Stiles' chest, Isaac hugged him even tighter. Everyone went in for a hug then, Derek coming behind Stiles, Peter folding himself around Isaac, and the twins coming in at the sides, Aiden holding Lydia from behind, who was tightly clenching the fabric of Stiles’ clothing, they all piled together, Stiles in the middle. 

"I love you guys," Stiles sighed, smiling through his tears. 

"Yeah we love you too, Mom," said Lydia. Stiles picked up his head, looking straight at Lydia with slightly blurred vision. 

"And what is that supposed to mean Miss Martin?" At the end of his question he could hear the twins as well as Derek trying though failing to stifle their laughter, while Peter didn’t even try to hide it in the least.

"Stiles, sweetie, you're so the mom here. Derek is the dad, of course. You've got slightly dysfunctional children and a hot but also dysfunctional mate-pseudo-husband. One big happy family." 

Stiles looked at her incredulously for a moment before he burst out laughing. 

"Yeah, I would suppose that's true. C'mere kiddies!" he exclaimed, smiling brightly. 

Isaac hugged him tighter, and the rest rolled their eyes, but shuffled closer. 

"There's no going back now that you've told him," Ethan laughed. 

Derek chuckled. 

"That's alright."

"Do you think I could have Stiles to myself for a little while guys?" Derek asked, smile still tangible in his voice.

Lydia, Ethan, Aiden, and Peter simply nodded. Peter ran a hand over Isaac’s curls before stepping out of the house after the others, each of them getting one last breath of Stiles' scent, but Isaac remained glued to his chest. 

"Der, give me a minute yeah?" The older man backed from the house and went to sit in the jeep. "Isaac, sweetie, what's wrong?" He said quietly, not wanting to spook him as he gently massaged his fingertips through golden curls.

"I-I don't want you and Dad to feel like you can't be together because of Scott," he wailed, burying his face in Stiles' chest. "You're really happy together, and Dad smiles and laughs and you smell so _happy_ and content and I don't want that to go away!" 

"Come on pup look at me," Stiles pleaded tilting up the boy's head, something inside of him desperately needing him to be happy. Isaac's eyes were flooded with tears, glowing yellow. Stiles took a hand and wiped at the tear tracks on his cheeks. 

"Isaac nothing is going to keep me and Derek apart, and nothing will keep the pack from being together, not Scott, not anyone or anything. I am so happy that you feel so comfortable in all of this, I'm happy that I'm with Derek, I'm happy that I'm free." 

Isaac surged forward with pink staining the tips of his ears, landing right in the crook of Stiles' neck placing tiny nips with blunt teeth and taking in the warm unmasked scent of the human alpha.

Stiles hummed contently, smiling as he fingered Isaac's curls. Looking up, he saw Derek tip toe in. 

"Hey, Der," he whispered, knowing that Isaac was well on his way to falling asleep. 

"Hey babe," Derek smiled softly. "How is he?" 

"Didn't listen in?" Stiles asked smugly. 

"Too busy trying to get the others not to," Derek conceded. 

"See? You're such a good daddy already!" 

"Come on _Mom_ , let's get Isaac home." 

Derek said, picking up the nearly sleeping boy in his arms and placing a soft brush of the lips on his forehead. When they returned to Stiles' house and got Isaac settled on the bed, Derek crossed the room to drag Stiles into his embrace. 

"I'll be back late tonight, Peter and I are going to try and rid the scent of hunter from the loft." 

"Be safe." Stiles punctuated with a soft kiss. "I love you." 

With eyes twinkling in happiness, Derek ducked out the window and into the night. 

Grinning jubilantly, Stiles climbed in beside Isaac, curling himself around the pup in a protective hold. He hummed happily as Isaac curled in closer, nuzzling Stiles' side. 

"Sleep easy, pup," he sighed happily, trying to allow his body to lull himself to sleep, even without his mate. 

Stiles stirred awake to a warm body sliding into bed behind him and a stubbled chin rubbing against the back of his neck. 

"Go back to sleep," Derek's voice speared through the silence, rough. Stiles took in the unguarded sound, and reveled in the past few days. He returned to sleep with thoughts of love and pack and family.


	6. Call on Valhalla

Stiles dreamed. He dreamed of green grass, and pink roses, and children's laughter. He dreamt of pack and home and of his mom and when his dad was truly happy. He dreamt of Derek meeting his mom, of him meeting Thalia and of them both beaming proudly at Isaac and the rest of the pack. It was a little slice of heaven. 

He woke to find Derek and Isaac gone and panic started to set in immediately. There was no way, it was too real. His breathing was getting short and he saw black spots dancing across his vision, when he heard it. 

The tinkling of Isaac's laughter traveled up to his room from the floor below. Stiles let out a sigh of relief, terrified laughter slipping out of his mouth. 

He went down the stairs, keeping his footsteps light and was graced with the sight of his father at the counter looking through case files, Isaac leaning over the stove cooking breakfast and Derek sneaking his hand into the jar of flour and flicking some at Isaac before schooling his face to become aloof.

Stiles smiled brightly, beaming at the sight before him. 

"Hey, dad," he said happily, wrapping his dad up in a one arm hug quickly. Afterwards he moved to Isaac, kissing him on the forehead softly. 

"Morning, pup," he laughed when Isaac nuzzled into his side briefly. 

Finally he moved to Derek, kissing him soundly on the lips. 

"Sleep well, bendito?" Derek asked conversationally, leaning up against the counter. 

"Beautifully." 

They grinned at each other. 

"You have no idea how happy that makes me." Derek murmured into Stiles' neck moving a few inches to place a kiss to Stiles' shoulder, a spot he seemed to be quite fond of. "Now let's go, Isaac's helping your dad out around the house for a bit today, and we are going out." 

With a secretive smile gracing his face Derek started dragging Stiles out the door.

"Oo really?" Stiles inquired, pleased. 

"Yes, Genim, now go get ready," Derek laughed. 

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" Stiles asked, looking down at his old jeans and t-shirt. 

"Other than the fact that those are the clothes you wore yesterday and slept in?" Derek raised an eyebrow. 

"Fine," Stiles dragged out, rolling his eyes jokingly. 

The sheriff stared in shock as Stiles skipped up the steps to his room. 

"He doesn't even let me call him that," he stated, flabbergasted. 

"I don't know why I can get away with it, but I plan on taking advantage of it. It fits." Derek said before waving and leaving the room to go start the car. When Stiles slipped into the passenger seat he threaded his fingers between Derek's. 

"I let you call me Genim because the way you say it reminds me of my mom. Something about the sound, and the way it flows, it just throws me back in time to when she was alive and I love it. It hurts to hear other people butcher it, but you say it perfectly."

Derek smiled lovingly, squeezing Stiles' hand. 

"I love you, Genim." 

"I love you too, Derek." 

With that said they pulled out of the driveway and into town. 

"Where are we going?" Stiles asked again, looking to Derek. 

Derek smiled softly. 

"You'll see." 

Stiles groaned but let Derek drive him out to the preserve and on to a dirt path. 

"Okay, now I'm curious."

Derek laughed 

"I thought that you were already curious." 

"Even more so, then," Stiles conceded. 

"Somewhere special," Derek allowed. 

They pulled up to the cemetery on the edge of Beacon Hills and Stiles felt himself intake a sharp breath of air. Derek got out of the car and motioned to Stiles, "Come on love, I have some people I want you to meet."

Stiles stumbled out of the car and their hands met in the middle as they walked down the path through the gates, winding up and down rows of headstones to the back corner of the cemetery closest to the Hale's preserve. Derek walked lightly then, stopping at the first headstone, dragging his fingers across the top of it. 

"¡Eh!, pequeño vato," Derek smiled fondly, letting his fingers linger. "Genim, his is Andrew, he uh- he turned 13 last week. He was my biggest fan," Derek was lost in memories with a smile on his face.

Stiles knelt down and brought himself to eye level with the headstone. 

"Hello, Andrew," he whispered softly, reaching out to caress the edge of stone. "I'm Stiles. Only Derek can call me by my real name." 

Derek came up and knelt beside him, leaning heavily on Stiles' shoulder. 

"Andrew was human. It's recessive, but it happens. He used to try and growl like us, but it always ended up sounding like a kitten's mewl. He was my youngest brother. Always told me that when he grew up, he would just like me. I never wanted that, but he was adamant. Followed me around whenever he could." 

Stiles reached his arm around Derek's shoulder and pulled him close. He nosed the side of Derek's head. 

"I'm sure he loved you more than the world. And still would." 

Derek pressed a kiss to Stiles' lips, wondering if he knew that the things that he said were everything and more to Derek. He moved down on to the next stone, pink granite engraved with a crown above the name. 

"My little sister, Trinity. She was convinced she was a princess because her name was _‘a princess name Derek it's meant to be'_. She was only four, but I think I miss her the most. The entire family thrived from her energy, it was breathtaking. Her eyes glowed with a brightness like yours, it was beautiful. You're beautiful." 

Stiles turned towards Derek swiftly, pulling him into a tight embrace. They passed each headstone slowly, combing through each of the names, and Stiles let Derek talk it out, and Stiles heard Derek talk more than he ever had before. 

They passed Amy, and Adam, and Jamie, and Jonah, and Florah, and Daniel, and Tama, all the way through Derek's siblings and cousins and aunts and uncles and even his grandparents, all until they reached Derek's parents. 

"Hola, Mami, Papá. Yo dijo ustedes yo traería mi amor uno dia para ustedes. I'd like you to meet my mate, Genim." 

"It's very nice to meet you both, I think secretly I've been waiting for this longer than I care to admit. I would like to ask you a few very important questions just to let you know." 

Derek watched as Stiles talked to his parents as if they were standing right in front of him and it broke his heart as he realized it came from practice. 

"Now Thalia, Mrs. Hale? No something tells me just Thalia, but anyway what is with all of this Pack Mom business because I need to get this down quickly."

Derek had to sit. He watched Stiles for hours, as question by question passed by. 

"Isaac calls me 'Mom' and I don't know, should I let him? I would suppose, right? Is it like a mom mom thing or is it just a title? I think I'd like for it to be a mom mom thing. God knows Isaac could use it. So could I..." 

And he went on and on, and Derek couldn't help but be conflicted with feeling of being impossibly sad and impossibly happy. 

He was snapped out of his daydreaming by a specific statement made by Stiles. 

"I think you know my mom. Well I hope you do anyway. She needs a family like yours up there, and I think you would really all like her a lot, well I mean if you like me you would like her. It's comforting, knowing our families can be together in some fashi-" 

Stiles was cut off by the sharp press of Derek's lips to his own.

"I love you, my God I love you, I'll love you until the end of time I love you so much," he mumbled over and over again against Stiles' lips, licking and nipping and nuzzling, trying to get as close as possible. 

Stiles pulled him in close, running his hands through Derek's hair, skidding his fingers down the man's back, gripping at his waist. 

"I could," he breathed. "I could just look at you and keep you forever."

"Move in with me." Derek blurted. Stiles looked at him with shock. 

"I'll take whatever shit your dad gives me, but I honestly don't think I couldn't go a single night without you by my side and I've only had you less than a week." 

Stiles cupped his face with both hands bringing Derek's lips to his own in one motion, "Yes- yes- a thousand times- yes." Punctuating each word with a short peck.

"Just... One question babe. Where _have_ you been living? Cause that grungy apartment won't do, sorry. I don't like rats," Stiles asked cheekily, pecking Derek on the nose. 

Derek chuckled before looking at Stiles through his lashes. 

"What... What do you say about rebuilding the Hale house?" he asked tentatively, shifting slightly on his feet. 

"I think that's an amazing idea," Stiles beamed, proudly acknowledging that the choice Derek just made was a large one, and that he wouldn't just make it for anyone. 

"In fact it's a perfect idea, and we should start planning now." 

"Um about that, I have the plans and prints already, we really just have to start demolition and construction." Derek said sheepishly. 

Stiles didn't know what it was, if I was the look in Derek's eyes revealing how much it meant to him, or if it was the energy he could feel vibrating off of him, but Stiles knew he would do everything in his power to make this happen for his mate.

"Awesome!" Stiles cheered. "This makes things ten times easier. I think the science teacher at school has a daughter in the business - she can get us all the permits we need ASAP 'cause when I was twelve I saved her cat from getting run over by Ms. Thomson's truck. Then there's this absolutely amazing construction company that Tony the pizza guy knows, which could so get us a discount..." 

Derek hummed quietly, nodding and acknowledging Stiles' words as they walked back to the car. 

"How many bedrooms do you have planned because sleepovers should so be a thing and wouldn't it be great if most of the pack could come live with us someday? And what if we decide that we want pups? Not that Isaac isn't great and all, but maybe one day we could so look into a surrogate, or maybe adopt, or something. I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's just build the house for now..." 

Derek choked a little but kept walking. Whoa. Kids. It was then that Derek knew, 100% no doubts, that Stiles was in this for the long run. He pulled the boy to a stop. 

"How long did you know?" 

Stiles looked at him, confusion contorting his face. 

"Know what? About mates? How I felt about you? That this is forever? Take your pick and I will answer anything you want." 

"All of them," Derek said caressing the side of his face. "Tell me anything, tell me everything."

"I always knew. Though I will admit that there was a time when I didn't want to be real. I saw you for the first time when I was ten, right after the fire. And I swore that I would do anything to make you feel whole again. But then you left. And then you came back but you were different. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't good either. You hurt, and I knew that. And then I kept thinking, _'I can't be gay'_ and it wasn't because I was homophobic, but because me wanting a guy had never happened before. But then I started noticing you and I couldn't help myself. It was so much easier to focus all my time on Lydia, even though I knew deep inside that I wanted you, rather than come to terms with something that I didn't understand. But then there came a day when I had to say it. I had to admit it to myself. And now here we are and I know that you love me just as much as I love you." 

Stiles sniffed a bit, getting a little emotional towards the end. 

"I love you, Sourwolf." 

"Yah know, I think I remember that? I was sitting on the edge of one of the department cars and I saw you fidgeting next to your dad. I immediately felt my connection click into place even back then you kept me anchored, if you weren't there that night, who knows who else would have gotten hurt. When Laura told me that we were leaving I remember not being able to hide my whines of protest, but I wouldn't tell her why, so we left for New York. Every month I would think of you, what you could be doing, and when I stepped back into Beacon Hills I knew I wouldn't be able to leave."

"Your anchor wasn't really anger, was it?" Stiles asked tentatively. 

"No," Derek sighed. "It was you. Anger at myself for wanting you, but in the end it always went back to you." 

Derek reached up to finger at the longer strands of Stiles' hair. 

"It could never be anything else."   
…

Back at the sheriff’s house, Isaac was still mulling about in the kitchen, putting away pots and pans and washing dishes in the sink. He was taking his time, knowing that there wouldn’t be much else to do. 

The sheriff watched on quietly, observing as the boy hummed quietly. 

“What song is that?” he asked abruptly, recognizing the tune. 

The teen looked up from the soapy dish in his hands. 

“Hm?” he asked. 

“That song that you were humming, what was it?” the sheriff repeated. 

“Oh,” Isaac realized, smiling in understanding. “Stiles taught it to me. A little while ago I had some trouble sleeping, so he would sing it to me. His voice isn’t perfect but it was really relaxing and it really helped me out.” 

The sheriff’s eyebrows shot up. 

“Stiles taught it to you, did he? Did he mention what it was called?” 

Isaac thought for a second. 

“Yeah, _Lulajze Jezuniu,_ I think,” he said contemplatively. 

The sheriff’s breath hitched. 

“My… wife used to sing that to Stiles when he was a child before bed,” he breathed, looking at the table. 

“Oh,” Isaac mumbled, looking back to the half clean plate. 

“Would you… would you sing it? I haven’t heard it in a long time.” 

Isaac smiled sadly at the sheriff, and nodded. 

_“Lulajze Jezuniu, moja perezko Lulaj ulubione me Piezcidezko…”_

It was soft, so low the sheriff could barely hear the boy, and slightly off key, but the accent was right, like he’d practiced to get it perfect. John’s eyes watered, and he sniffed slightly. Isaac pretended not to notice. 

For the first time in a long time, Sheriff Stilinski felt like a little bit of home was brought back into the house. It was like a punch to the chest, hearing the song fill the space around him. 

He could picture Claudia busying herself in the house when Stiles was just a little boy, humming under her breath much like Isaac had just done. In some instances, she would sit at the piano and begin to play, singing in Polish while Stiles would dance around the room. 

The sheriff could remember coming in through the door and sneaking over to the room, peeking in looking just past the wall to catch glimpses of what he could only call the closest thing to magic that he would ever see in his home. 

Isaac’s cheeks held a light dust of pink, embarrassed. The song was long, when the stanzas were sung repeatedly, and he wasn’t sure if his accent was right. He’d tried his very best to do it like Stiles had, where the words flowed together smoothly. He’d sung the song for days repeatedly in an effort to get it right. 

The sharp smell of tears hit his nose, but Isaac knew that the sheriff wouldn’t like if he said anything about it. Sometimes you just have to ignore a man’s tears when they’re trying to stay hidden. 

Isaac stepped back, placing the final dishes in the rack beside the sink. He figured time alone would be something the sheriff needed after getting a taste of something of the past. He quietly left the kitchen, only placing a hand on the man's shoulder, squeezing once. Putting on his shoes, he slipped from the house.

Wandering aimlessly, Isaac walked through the preserve. So much had happened in only a few days that taking in the sounds of the forest and the natural scents, was just what he needed. 

He practically glowed when his thoughts passed over Stiles. To have him back, the real Stiles, was a relief. He thought of how happy he and Derek make each other, how it felt to be in the presence of the alpha pair. 

This was tainted by the memory of Scott's reaction. It was unfathomable almost, that Scott possessed the gall to do such a thing to his _brother_. He quickly turned his mind away from Scott, not wanting to fall to any temptation to just go and rip him apart for making Stiles cry.

He found himself thinking of Peter. It was something he had not understood at first, why his thoughts traveled to the older man, but from the touches he received from Peter the day before, he realized. The contact sent sparks down his spine and when Peter pressed himself against his back, he'd felt himself calm immediately. He wondered what would happen if it was Peter's sweat slicked torso that was pressed up against his own bare, bite riddled back.

When he looked up, breaking free from his thoughts for a moment, blushing at the track they were headed down, he saw that his feet had brought him to the loft.

He trudged up the stairs slowly, not in any sort of rush. He figured Stiles and Derek wouldn’t be back until at least just before dinner, if at all, since the afternoon was nearly over and there was still no sign of them showing up any time soon. 

Just before he opened the door, Isaac caught a whiff of Peter. It was strange to have him still hanging around, even after everyone else had been long gone. Isaac knew that Peter didn’t live in the loft with him and Derek. 

Entering the loft and heading for the couch, Isaac heard Peter shuffling around upstairs. 

“Hey,” he said, not bothering to raise his voice, knowing Peter could hear him. 

“Hello, _Vida_. What did you do today?”

Peter’s voice was quiet, muffled in what Isaac assumed was a box or chest of some sort. 

“I spent some time with Mr. Stilinski. What have you been doing, hanging around here all day?” 

Isaac could practically hear Peter’s sly smirk. 

“Oh, you know. Rummaging around, cleaning up for my dear nephew.” 

“You don’t clean, Peter,” Isaac stated dryly, looking towards the ceiling. “You lurk and get yourself up to no good.” 

Peter snorted softly, “You wound me, _Querido_.” 

Isaac hummed and turned the TV on. Peter liked to tease him by calling him things in Spanish, especially when he wasn’t sure what the words meant. Isaac hadn’t even known that Peter or Derek knew anything other than English until a few months ago. It aggravated him that they spoke the language just so that he couldn’t listen in. 

While lost in thought, Peter must have went down the stairs. Isaac watched him move about the room, it was like seeing a whole new person. When Peter got Lydia to trick Derek into bringing him back, the pack didn't really know what to expect. A few months ago, when Peter had only been back for a few weeks, proving not to be the man he was after the fire, Derek approached Isaac with a haunted look on his face. Isaac remembers exactly what Derek said to him, never taking the man's words for granted.

_"I never thought I would get him back," Derek had whispered. He was running a hand through his hair, slightly tugging at the dark strands._

_"Derek what do you, what do you mean?"_

_"The old Peter. I never thought I would get him back, after he turned into the monster the was after the fire, I never expected to see the real him again."_

Even simply thinking of Derek with a washed out look of peering into the past sent a full body tremor through Isaac.

"Hello, _Cariño?_ Dea- Isaac?" said Peter, internally cringing at his near slip up. Isaac snapped out of his deep thought to see Peter had stepped right up in front of him, snapping a finger in front of his face. 

"Sorry, just a little distracted."

"Something on your mind?" Peter questioned, the scent of curiosity flowing from where he stood.

_You! It's always you on my mind!_ Isaac screamed in his head, not knowing how that would go over at the moment. "It's- it's nothing important." Isaac said not too confidently.

"Are you quite sure of that? Remember, I can hear your heart, _Corazóncito_."

"Really, Peter. It's nothing." Isaac continued to deny the thoughts he would rather not acknowledge.

"Fine then. If you will not share, I will." Isaac's body tensed and Peter continued to speak, only inches away. 

"My mind is completely clouded with thoughts of golden curls, and piercing blue eyes. It's killing me. _He's_ killing me. I don't know what is right, but hell if he doesn't make my heart ache in all of the right places. I want what my nephew has, and I know I could if- if he would just _look_ at me."

As Peter spoke his last few words he took a step closer and lifted his hand. He placed a thumb right at the corner of Isaac's mouth, and using the rest of his fingers he tilted the boy's face up towards his, Isaac's eyes finally meeting his own. 

"Peter-" Isaac started, eyes wide with what could only be shock.

"Amorcito mío, tell me you don't feel it. Tell me you don't feel that nearly irresistible pull and, and I will never try another thing," Peter interjected. 

"It's maddening." Isaac breathed, heart rate flying, holding eye contact with the other man. He felt that if he lost that, that he would come to and it would all just be a beautiful nightmare.

"Peter, b-bésame," Isaac whispered in broken Spanish, watching Peter's jaw drop at the language.

"I uh, I wanted to know for- for when I had enough confi-"

Peter surged forward those last few inches between Isaac and himself, pressing their bodies together from chest to thighs, joining their lips.

"Tu eres hermoso eso, mi amor," Peter mumbled into the kiss, _"mine."_

“Yours, always yours,” Isaac moaned back, breathing becoming erratic. The press of Peter’s lips against his own was mind shattering. 

Peter ran his tongue along Isaac’s bottom lip, which causing him to let out a sharp gasp at the sensation. The older man took the opportunity to push his tongue into the other’s mouth. The taste of Isaac on his tongue was indescribable. It felt like pieces of himself were coming together that he didn’t even know were missing. Isaac thought that this had to have been what Derek feels with Stiles, it just felt so _right_. 

Peter moved his hands across the boy’s shoulders, down his arms and settled on his waist, fingers brushing the skin exposed by his rumpled t-shirt. 

The touch had Isaac melting against him, curling his fingers into the older man’s hair slightly tugging on the gelled strands. Peter pressed a hard kiss to Isaac’s lips before traveling down his neck, placing small bites on the skin before sucking a mark into the pale flesh.

Isaac rolled his hips forward, grinding his erection against Peter’s own, causing matching animalistic groans to escape them.

Peter pulled back from where he was brandishing Isaac’s throat, moving up to place his mouth right next to Isaac’s ear, breathing worn and shallow.

“Bedroom. Now.”

Untangling from each other, Peter grabbed his hand and started leading him down the hall, Isaac’s quiet, euphoric laughter echoing through the room.

•••••

Derek and Stiles entered the house quietly, tip-toeing through the front room and up the stairs. 

“Cough.” 

The two jumped. Turning, Stiles saw his dad sitting on the loveseat in the living room.

“Hey, Dad, how was your day?” 

“Pretty good,” the sheriff said conversationally. 

“Oh?” Stiles asked, inching up the steps. 

“Yeah, Isaac stuck around for a bit, cleaned up, we spent some lovely quality   
time together.” 

“That’s great, Dad. Derek and I are really tired, so we’re just gonna-”

“Go to bed with your husband-thing, Stiles,” the sheriff smirked. 

“Okay, yeah I’ll do that, we’ll do that, yeah, g’night, Dad!” 

Quickly crossing the room, and going up the stairs, when the pair reached Stiles’ room they simultaneously flopped onto his bed. Stiles’ rearranged himself onto his side, facing Derek who was mirroring his own position.

“We can start tearing down the house tomorrow,” Stiles whispered, a private smile gracing his face.

“We’ll have our own home before we even realize it,” Derek sealed his statement with a slow kiss.

"Is this crazy?"

"Stiles, building a home with me is just another notch in the crazy life we live. This is nothing compared to it all," Derek murmured sleepily, eyes half lidded.

The younger man let out a noise that sounded like agreement, turning himself gently as to not jostle his shoulder, and pressed his back against Derek's chest. Derek instantly had his arms wrapped around Stiles, pulling him impossibly closer while nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

Derek felt Stiles attempt to tighten Derek’s hold on him. Pressing a light kiss to Stiles’ throat, he let out a satisfied rumble, vibrating through his chest. It was so easy to just lie there with his mate, falling asleep while breathing him in.


	7. Quondam

The following two weeks passed by quickly, a blur of tearing down framework and ripping up what was left of the floorboards in the old Hale house. The plan was to rebuild a replica of what had stood before, nothing else seemed to sit well in either of the men’s stomachs. 

They had been staying in a small one bedroom while they were starting construction, and one evening after finally starting to build, having cleared debris from the preserve, there was a knock at the door. Derek inhaled sharply, tensing up as he did so. He briskly stood and crossed the room to the door, hand hesitating on the door knob. He swung the door open in one full motion.

“Elijah,” Derek exhaled, eyes widening as if he had seen a ghost. Stiles remained seated on the couch, still struggling to follow what just happened, inquisitive nature kicking in, but forcing himself to stay quiet.

“What are you- how- how did you even find me?”

Elijah hesitated minutely, so much so that Stiles almost missed it. He saw the widening of Elijah's eyes. Stiles also noticed that Derek must’ve missed this, maybe having a sheriff for a dad paid off sometimes.

“It obviously took me a while, but New York just wasn’t the place for me anymore, it was weird without you and Laura being next door anymore. I figured I would check out Beacon Hills, thinking I would find you guys here.”

“Laura, she’s dead, Elijah. She’s gone.”

"Wha... What?" the man, Elijah breathed. 

Stiles chose then to rise and step closer. 

Elijah's eyes were impossibly wide, ocean blue and forest green swirling together like a raging storm. 

The man was tall, broad and lithe-muscled. His lips were full and pink, his mouth agape, revealing straight, perfect teeth. Elijah reached a hand up to run through his hair, messing the immaculate platinum spikes. He blinked, and his long lashes kissed his cheeks, his eyes tearing in a way that made them glow. 

To Stiles, Elijah looked more like a porcelain doll than a human being. Unease bloomed in his chest, making him shift his weight from side to side. 

"D, I uh wow, I'm sorry," said Elijah, tone full with shock. Stiles watched him pull Derek into his arms and he couldn't help himself when he felt the green tendrils of jealousy wrap around his mind.

It was foolish of him, and he knew it, but that didn't stop Stiles from pulling the green glow closer to his chest and letting the little seeds of bitterness bloom within him. 

As if sensing his discomfort, Elijah pulls away slowly, smiling sadly. 

"And who is this?" he asks, looking to Stiles. 

Derek smiled brilliantly. 

"Elijah, this is my mate, Stiles. Genim, this is my friend, Elijah." 

Stiles preened at the introduction, Derek addressing him as his mate to an old friend soothing his mind.

"Genim?" Elijah inquires with a raised brow. 

"Don't call me that," Stiles snaps, glaring at the doll of a man. "It's Stiles to you." 

Elijas' eyebrows lifted in surprise, but he raised his hands in surrender. 

"Okay, okay," he placates. 

It wasn't the fact that Stiles was jealous that made him say that, but he couldn't help but feel it was perceived that way. He looked to Derek for some sort of help, it was difficult to explain to someone they knew, let alone a stranger to him.

Derek seemed to sense Stiles' exasperation and always, as it seems, he came to his rescue.

"Genim's name is very personal and not even his friends call him that. It's Stiles to everyone but me and his dad. Remember that, Elijah." 

Elijah nods, but Stiles could tell that he didn't quite get what Derek was trying to say. 

"It's nice to meet you, Elijah," Stiles attempts to smile welcomingly. He felt like it just made him look constipated, if he were being honest. "I can't wait to hear stories from New York." 

Elijah smirked, eyes lighting up with smug air about them. 

"Yes, I definitely remember some interesting experiences with the Hales."

The calm Stiles felt disappears immediately at the tone of his voice. There was no way any of the stories Elijah could've been thinking of would make Stiles feel any better whatsoever.

It was Derek's turn to look uncomfortable in the unlikely trio. His jaw was clenched tightly, breathing through his nose and counting his inhales and exhales.

"Elijah," he warns quietly, his face melting into a familiar scowl. 

"Oh, lighten up, Der Bear," Elijah teased. 

Derek's scowl deepened. 

"Don't call me that, either." 

It was Elijah's turn to frown. 

"You were grumpy before, but now you're just downright bitter. Is it this new boyfriend of yours?" 

The entire room tensed. 

"Mate," Derek growled. "You know full well what that means. And you'd be bitter too, with what we've seen." 

Elijah just rolled his eyes. Stiles felt the rare white-hot tendrils of anger moving through his body. He didn't open his mouth, knowing that if he did something cruel would come out. 

…..

It continued like that for weeks on end. Elijah was facetiously flirting with Derek right in front of Stiles and the pack and it was driving him absolutely insane.

_“Oh, Derek, you’re so thick. It fits, I think.”_

Derek’s reply to that remark was to spit some of his drink onto the table. 

Elijah had given him an innocent look and said, _“You’re supposed to swallow it D.”_

_“Derek, you’re so much quieter than when we were in New York. I remember you being so loud the neighbors used to bang on the walls!”_

Isaac seemed to be the only one noticing it along with him, the others in the pack simply accepted Elijah’s presence without question. It was turning Isaac into a nervous wreck, reminding Stiles of the times when Isaac would flinch at the sight of any sudden movements. He was stressed over the possible threat towards his new family and it was near impossible for even Stiles to calm him down.

Even Derek was becoming less angry and more uncomfortable as the weeks passed. Elijah would continually make passes at Derek even with his obvious knowledge of Stiles' status in all of this. It went from glares and “Elijah, shut up” to “Jesus, please just stop!”. Stiles went from being wary of the man to downright hating him. 

“I want him gone, Derek!” he snapped one day. “Fucking gone! Right now! In fact, yesterday.” 

Derek sighed deeply, rubbing the crease in his forehead with his thumb and index finger. 

“I know, Stiles, but the problem is that Elijah isn’t one to leave easily.” 

“I don’t care! It doesn’t matter! I tolerated him but I can’t anymore. He makes me uncomfortable, you uncomfortable and Isaac uncomfortable. He can’t stay.” 

"I don't know how to get him to go. I- I still don't even know why he's here, but I sure as hell don't want to find out."

Derek was ready to tear the apartment to shreds. This time should be spent painting and furnishing the Hale house. He should be bonding with Isaac with the new view of their relationship. He should be falling into life with Stiles. They should be wrapped together on the bed talking about how they could have pups in the future, but instead he was faced with frustration.

“What are we going to do, Genim?” he asked morosely, lacking what little spirit he had left. 

Stiles sighed and moved to sit next to him on the couch. 

“We make him leave on his own.” 

…..

Stiles had nightmares. Which was a given, he supposed, though waking up at 3 a.m. screaming was decidedly something he did not enjoy doing. 

At first, they were quiet terrors, anxieties that he liked to push off during the day. But as the time passed, his dreams went from vague feelings of anxiety and fear, from things like not graduating or failing to stop some supernatural creature, to real, tangible sights that he could still see when he closed his eyes and pictures that got carried into the day with him long after he awoke.

They escalated into things created by his own mind, trauma leftover from the nogitsune. Derek would crush Stiles' thrashing body hard against his own in the darkness of the night. Stiles, over and over, lived through hearing the monotone of a voice identical to his own, yet completely different in every way. 

He would get bright flashes of scenes filled with the blood of his loved ones, of his father bleeding out on the ground, of Isaac gasping with a bullet in his chest, of- of Derek strung up like the omega in the woods that had been cut in half by Gerard. 

Derek stayed with him most nights, and it helped more than Stiles could ever say, but the thing was that Derek had nightmares, too. And his were real. In the soft, early mornings Stiles would hold him. Derek would tell him in a quiet voice, about his demons. He would lie with his eyes clenched shut, telling Stiles of the little things, like Kate's melodic laughter which only turned out to be sinister in the worst way.

_“I told her no,”_ he would whimper softly, and Stiles would hold him close, his own horrors mingling with Derek’s, creating a storm of despair in his little room in his father’s house in a twin sized bed with Batman and Spiderman comics framed on the wall. 

Derek’s nightmares were of his past, moments that he had lived through, moments his mind made him relive over and over. Stiles, he got something new every time.

One night, just as Derek was sliding into bed beside Stiles couldn't hold it in anymore. 

"I thought I was getting better Derek! The nightmares weren't coming nearly as much and even if they did they weren't as bad as they are right now! I can't, I can't live like this, I need to not be afraid to go to sleep at night. I need to not see torn skin and broken bones. I need peace."

His voice was one of exasperation, sounding slightly crazed. He was desperate for a full night's sleep.

Derek sighed deeply, reaching over and threading his fingers through the lengthening strands of Stiles’s hair. 

“Maybe Deaton will know,” he mused, rubbing soothing circles into his mate’s scalp. 

“I’m sure if he does then he’ll be vague as ever,” Stiles groaned, partly in pleasure from Derek’s ministrations and partly in exasperation carefully cultivated over years of half answers and secretive smiles. 

“There’s no harm in trying,” Derek tried to smile. 

“Well look at you, trying to be all optimistic for me,” Stiles teased, quietly worried about Derek and his nightmares as well. He never talked about them much, so Stiles never knew their patterns very well. 

“Only for you,” Derek sighed softly, bending over to kiss Stiles’ forehead. “We’ll visit Deaton in the morning quickly, just to ask him if he has any ideas. If not, we’ll do more research.”

“Fine, we’ll go and see what doctor cryptic and vaguely creepy has to see about my night terrors,” Stiles groaned, shedding his shirt and climbing into bed. 

Derek only hummed, smiling slightly at his mate’s complaints as he too shed his outer layers and settled in the little bed. Both huddled close, Stiles slipping into his customary position on Derek’s chest, Derek wrapping his arms securely around the younger man. 

“To dreamless nights,” Stiles mumbled, snuggling further into Derek’s chest, frowning. 

“To dreamless nights.” 

•••••

It started in complete darkness. Derek was chained to the fence again, his arms stretched out and his legs hanging down though clamped together. He bared a resemblance to a man being crucified, but his torture was much worse. He knew it was another nightmare, or terror, or whatever it should be called, but he couldn't for the life of him wake up. 

Derek tried to brace himself, to steel his emotions away and hide them from the inevitable, _Kate_. He clenched his eyes shut and waited patiently, there was nothing else for him to do, the dream would never stop by his own means.

\---

Stiles walked through the dimly lit halls, his footfalls echoing around him. He wasn't quite sure where he was, but when he took in a deep breath and found the scent of pine tarnished by smoke he knew it was the tunnels under the Hale house. 

The nightmares never put him in control, it was like he was just merely a bystander in his own body, watching the actions take place. He approached a titanium plated door and slid it across it's tracks to reveal a pitch black room.

He took a tentative step forward, reaching an arm out blindly in front of him. 

“Hello?”

Stiles mentally berated himself. He just did the stupid horror movie thing where the poor, stupid victim calls out into a dark, seemingly empty room and then ends up getting themselves brutally murdered because they couldn’t keep their mouths shut. He was that one white guy that gets killed for being stupid. He was going to be the Randy Meeks of Beacon Hills. 

“Stiles?”

Stiles nearly cries in relief. 

“Derek!”

Stiles stumbles forward, tripping and nearly falling over. He blinks and then suddenly, there’s light. 

It’s the room Kate had held Derek in all those months ago. Here, Derek was chained in the exact same way that he was that night, spread on the links like Christ being offered to God. 

“Stiles, thank God, you’re not Kate,” Derek smiled wearily in relief. For some reason he still felt slightly on edge, like something was wrong. 

“Of course I’m not Kate,” Stiles practically coos. His voice was off. In fact, everything about the situation was off. 

He meant to move closer to Derek and unbind him, to release him from what Stiles knew were extremely uncomfortable chains. Instead, halfway to the fence, Stiles’ body made a sharp turn, walking so that he was facing a tray of some wickedly arranged weapons. 

Confused, he picked up something that looked strangely like a lightsaber. Flicking the button on the handle, Stiles jumped when sparks flew and the tip crackled. 

“Stiles…” Derek warned uneasily, staring at the weapon with wide eyes. “What are you doing?” 

“Huh,” Stiles hummed, slightly horrified. He felt his lips curling into a smile. Turning, he held the taser like object in his hands, elbow leaning in on his waist, hand cocked. “I wonder what this does.” 

Derek’s eyes widened even further. 

“No,” he breathed, horror struck. “No.” 

“Eh, yeah, I think so,” Stiles teased, and it was so like him, to tease Derek in situations like this. Stiles may be thin and scrawny, and he may have the heart of a lion, but Derek had seen him threaten a man twice his size with a smile and a laugh. It was just who he was. 

“Please don’t,” Derek cried, eyes begging. 

“I think I will.”

He advanced on the werewolf, his mind screaming for him stop stop his approach, but there was no conceding to his wishes. He raised the baton, sparking with a voltage that would kill a mere human instantly. 

Derek was expecting brutality, but he should have known that Stiles was much more cunning than that. It was like a lover's caress, the baton trailing down his chest and abdomen stopping right above his navel. 

Derek arched off of the fence at the initiation of the touch, the electricity tensing every last one of his muscles. His shift was brought out against his will. He could feel the slide of his claws coming out from his skin, and his fangs slipping down. Derek released a sound so animalistic, so raw that it caused Stiles to shudder in his speciation.

Derek had always thought that living through Kate's actions night after night was torture, but being attacked by his mate was pure hell.


	8. Torment of the Blessed

Both of them awoke screaming. Stiles flung himself from the bed immediately, crashing to the floor with a choked wail. Derek sat where he had jolted from the pillows, face buried in his hands, moaning painfully. He gripped his hair tightly, claws extended, nearly pulling the strands from his scalp, and pulled his head to his knees. Stiles just kept wailing, eyes darting about furiously, clutching at his chest.

“Stiles? Derek?” the sheriff burst in, breathing heavily, chest heaving. “What’s going on, what’s wrong?” 

His gun was out, and he was in an old wife beater and plaid pajama pants. 

Stiles’ wails got even louder, like he was trying to say something but couldn’t get the words out. He was openly crying, heaving sobs leaving his chests like John hadn’t seen since his wife died. 

Frantically, the sheriff’s eyes darted over to Derek, wondering what could possibly be wrong. Another nightmare? 

What he saw made him drop his gun. 

Derek Hale, known to be broody and not speak often, was crying quietly. There were no guttural sobs, no moaning, no wails, no screams, like his son; just a few lone tears making their way down his cheeks at a steady rate as he stared off at some point across the room. A hand had come up to cover his mouth, and John guessed it was to cover a quivering lip. 

Stiles began to mumble, quietly, little busts of words, over and over. It took John a second to realize that his son was gasping, _monster, I'm a monster,_ repeatedly. 

_"Monster,"_ he cried, almost rocking back and forth, eyes glazed over. 

Carefully, the sheriff used his foot to slide his gun out of the way, knowing the safety was already on. He approached his son how he used to when his wife passed away, in a way he never thought he would have to again.

He slowly lowered himself to the ground, sparing a glance at Derek who had not gotten worse nor improved since he looked before. He pulled Stiles' shaking body towards him, feeling the trembles where his hands gripped him. John maneuvered Stiles so that he was sitting facing towards him. He ran light fingertips from behind Stiles' ear and down to the crook of his neck, continuously repeating the motion. 

He whispered quietly to his son, "Hey, hey it's me, it's your dad, we'll be okay." 

Stiles gradually stilled, breathing deeply, but evenly. 

“It’s not okay,” Stiles stated lowly, deep and anger ridden. “I could never make this okay.” 

“What?” John pulled back slightly to look his son in the eyes. 

“I swore,” Stiles practically growled, low and furious. “I swore I would never hurt him like she did. That I would never hurt him at all.” 

A few stray tears made their way down his cheeks, but behind the glassy sheen there was pure fury in his eyes. It took the sheriff a moment to realize that his son’s anger was directed at himself. Stiles was glaring hatefully, thinking of himself. 

“Stiles-” 

“No.” 

Taken aback, John stared at his son in shock. Standing abruptly, Stiles pushed his father away, glowering at the floor. Then, as if a thought struck him, his eyes snapped to Derek’s hunched form. The sheriff read the delicate situation in front of him and backed out without a word.

Derek had shifted slightly in the time when John had calmed his son. His arms were wrapped underneath his thighs, in the fold of his knees, and his head was resting on top of them. His claws were digging into the muscle of his legs causing steady streams of blood, trailing down his skin reaching his boxers and staining the fabric. Every muscle in his body was coiled and to Stiles he just looked so, small. 

Stiles neared the bed with a strong air of hesitance. He was so unsure now, he knew that he could never do what he had just seen in his sleep to Derek, but he couldn't help but feel the dreadful guilt of committing the dark actions.

He reached a hand out, and started tracing small circle onto Derek's own. He could feel the grip loosen and he slowly pulled the claws from Derek's marred flesh. Repeating the same, with the other hand, Stiles moved up onto the bed with the wolf. He slid in between Derek's thighs and threaded his fingers into his wild mane of hair. 

Pulling Derek's face towards the crook of his neck should've been something he was cautious about, but he had no fear of any of the outcomes Derek would give him. Stiles knew his scent was strong in that area and hoped that it would be enough to get Derek back to him. 

The older man began emitting a low rumble from his chest, and his hands immediately gripped onto Stiles' waist.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles whispered brokenly, leaning his forehead against the alpha’s sleep mussed hair. “I’m so, so, sorry.”

Derek said nothing, just gripped Stiles closer, tighter, his now blunt nails leaving rivets on Stiles’ skin through his shirt. 

Stiles knew that Derek couldn’t just say that it was okay, and Stiles would never accept it even if he wanted to, but there was something explicitly painful about Derek’s silence. 

“I could never stop loving you,” Derek mumbled lowly after a long pause. 

A sob broke through Stiles’ throat. 

“Oh, God,” he cried. “Oh, God. I could never hurt you, I swear, I promise, please, Derek, please, I could never hurt you, never, I’d die, I’d kill myse-” 

Stiles’ rambling was cut off by Derek’s broad hands gripping his chin harshly. 

“You aren’t allowed to say that. I don’t care. You aren’t fucking allowed to say that,” Derek growled, his eyes boring into his mate’s, "you _can't_. I won't let you." 

Derek used the grip he had on Stiles and pulled him in gently to press his lips against Stiles'. The kiss was fragile, and Derek could almost taste Stiles' guilt on his tongue. Derek moved down to Stiles' neck, nipping at the skin, worrying a deep bruise into it. 

Stiles knew that Derek needed this, to make his mark known, to mix his scent with Stiles' own. He ran his hands lightly up and down Derek's sides, letting out short whines of pleasure.

"Claim me," Stiles moaned, the thought of Derek setting his teeth into him turning him on more than it probably should. 

Derek released a sensual groan and bit down hard on Stiles' shoulder with human teeth. Whatever his connection to this spot on his mate's body was, it was where his mark belonged

Derek pulled away and reclined both of them back on the bed. He wrapped his arms tightly around Stiles' waist and pulled him in, back flush against Derek's chest. He tangled their legs together and lapped at the bruised and irritated skin, letting out a deep breath.

The sheriff knocked lightly, opening the door at the same time, more to announce his arrival than ask permission to enter.

"Stiles, I called you in, you can stay home today. Just, both of you, try to get some rest."

He left without waiting for a response and closed the door as well. Derek could hear him going down the stairs and out of the house, and he relaxed further, nuzzling at the back of Stiles' neck.

•••••

It was well into the morning when Ethan and Aiden burst through the door, sliding across the floor with their momentum. Derek had been lying on the bed reading a book with Stiles sprawled over the top of him, head on Derek's chest listening to his heartbeat at the source. 

Stiles shifted, flailing slightly to get himself off of Derek and into a position to see what was going on, suppressing a moan of pleasure when he felt the ache in his shoulder where he bared Derek's temporary marking.

"Not that I don't want my pups in the house or anything, but, shouldn't you be in school?"

"Well you see that's the thing," Ethan started, Aiden picking up where he stopped at his pause, "we were at school, actually having intent to participate, unlike usual-"

Ethan interjected, "The thing is, well, we saw Scott-"

Aiden cut in yet again, "and he was outside ta-"

"Guys, please, the twin thing is pretty hard for me to follow even when I'm on top of my game, so just one of you? Explain."

The twins shared a look, silently debating on who could deliver the message better, and and Ethan stepped back making a sweeping motion "clearing the floor" for his brother.

"We got to school late this morning, something was up with my bike and we're not ones to share a ride so we obviously took the time to fix it so we could get there eventually, and yeah I'll make sure it doesn't happen often, _mother dear_ ," Aiden sent a wicked smirk in Stiles' direction before his face was wiped clear, almost too stoic.

"When we pulled into the lot and parked the bikes in the corner, like we always do, we could hear the faint edges of a conversation so naturally we worked our way in its direction. When the people came into view, we uh, well we noticed it was Scott, I mean that banded tattoo was a giveaway. He had his back to us and, and he was talking to Elijah." 

Aiden reached his hand up to rub at the back of his neck, taking deep breaths to keep himself calm. Ethan was standing behind him, red slowly bleeding in and out of his eyes like a pulse.

The Alpha mates tensed, a dark expression overcoming their faces. They looked to each other, almost fed up. Scott was becoming a problem. Stiles wasn’t one to jump to conclusions, but the presence of Elijah left a bitter taste in his mouth. Scott wasn’t exactly part of the pack anymore, which means he shouldn’t even be looking in Elijah’s direction. 

Derek was less than surprised. Scott was a good kid, but he was often dumb, making foolish decisions and acting without thinking, even more so than he or Stiles. 

Stiles turned back to the twins, eyebrows drawn and raised. His eyes were wide, showing signs of betrayal and curiosity. It was clear he wanted Aiden to continue.

The twin cleared his throat, taking one last deep breath before the words started to spill, "Scott was, he was telling Elijah about the pool? I guess that was before we arrived, but he mentioned how Stiles had _held Derek up for hours, treading water when he was paralyzed by the kanima_. He was full of nervous excitement so strong that Ethan and I could feel it from our positions.

"Elijah had given Scott a wicked grin saying that _this memory will do just fine_. He also, um, crap, he also reminded Scott that he- shit, Ethan what did he say?"

The other boy looked up from where he was trying to burn holes into Stiles' floor with his tempered glare, his eyes burning alpha red.

"He told Scott to remember that he could only do _this_ when _they_ were asleep, and we just assumed that they means, well means you two."

Stiles' face hardened. Standing slowly, he stalked over to his closet, ripping a shirt from the rack and snatching a pair of jeans from the floor, jostling his shoulder as well as sending pain down his arm from where he was shot a few inches below the bite mark. Throwing them on in violent, jerky motions, shockingly in control of his usual clumsy state, he snapped his gaze to Derek's, locking eyes. Derek was already standing, dressed, a similar look on his face. Nodding curtly, Stiles motioned for the twins to follow him out the door, Derek walking beside him. 

"Sti-"

"Derek, wait. Wh-"

"Hello? Stiles?"

"Wanna tell us where we'r-"

"No? Fine. Ethan and I will just follow blindly I guess."

The twins were trying to lighten the mood with their commentary, but it was futile. Derek looked back at them, exploiting his struggle with control when they noticed he was in the first stage of his shift. He shot them both a red glare, snapping his teeth once in warning. 

When the group reached the camaro, Derek slid gracefully into the driver's seat, wrapping clawed hands around the steering wheel and going white-knuckled immediately.

Stiles gripped the passenger door, and without looking towards the others, he spat through gritted teeth, "follow," slamming the door behind him.

Derek revved the engine, expressing his impatience and the boys got into gear, kick starting their bikes to life.

Derek and Stiles stayed silent during the ride, faces hard. When they got to the McCall household, Stiles was out the door before Derek had even stopped the car. 

Melissa opened the door with a smile, greeting Stiles, Derek, and the twins with a happy, but slightly confused “Hello, boys!”. 

“Hi, Ms. McCall!” Stiles exclaimed tightly, leaning against the doorframe. “Is my buddy Scott home? I’d like to have a word with him.”

Slightly offput by Stiles’ formality, Melissa shrugged regretfully. 

“Sorry, Stiles, he’s still at school. He should be home soon, though.”

Hitching her purse further up her shoulder she smiled softly, placing a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. 

“I’m really sorry that I can’t stick around but I’ve got a shift at the hospital starting soon,” her smile saddened. “I really hope you work out whatever you and my son have going on soon.” 

Stiles’ smile fell slightly, and he straightened. 

“Yeah, me too,” he braced his hand on her shoulder, pulling her further out the door a touch. “Well, I guess Derek and the rest of us will just wait here for him, then.”

“Alright,” Melissa nodded, walking to her car. “Bye, boys! Scott should be home soon!” 

Watching her pull out of the driveway, Stiles’ expression darkened. He turned, looking to Derek. 

“What do you think I should say?” he sighed, slightly unsure. 

Derek’s frown deepened. 

“The truth. You know what it is.” 

Nodding sagely, Stiles turned to face the twins. 

“Come on, let’s go wait for Scotty boy inside.” 

Eyes wide, the twins followed their alpha and his mate inside the McCall house, uncharacteristically quiet. 

Walking to the kitchen, Derek pulled out two chairs for him and Stiles, slamming the legs on the hard tile of the floor. Stiles sat heavily. 

“What, no chairs for us?” Aiden joked, attempting to lighten the mood. 

Ethan elbowed him sharply, pulling him to stand behind their Alpha pair. 

Both Stiles and Derek ignored them, staring straight ahead, awaiting Scott’s arrival. 

The hours ticked by slowly, the twins silently pacing, Stiles rhythmically tapping his fingers against the table, and Derek sat stock straight with his hands clenched tightly in separate fists in front of him. 

Derek's head snapped towards the front of the house, telling that he could hear the distant sound of Scott's dirt bike. Ethan and Aiden emitted low warning growls simultaneously. Stiles turned to them both giving them a look which shut them each up with a short whine in protest. Looking back to Derek, Stiles got the wolf's attentions by a simple whisper.

"Let me."

Before Stiles could take his next breath, Derek's lips were on his, short and quick. 

"We'll be okay," Derek soothed as the squeal of the front door being opened announced Scott's arrival.

Scott entered the room stiffly and slightly confused. 

“Stiles?” he asked, tilting his head. “I thought you’d be stopping by soon, but I didn’t think it’d be with Derek.”

Stiles stared blankly at Scott for a second. 

“Oh, is that so?” he inquired, leaning his head on his palm. 

“Uh…” Scott hesitated. 

All of a sudden, Stiles’ mildly pleasant expression melted into one of pure fury. Standing abruptly, he walked over to where the teen was standing in the doorway. 

“I have some questions for you, Scott,” he stated with a false smile. “Sit. Down.” 

Looking confused, Scott moved to pull out a chair. 

Smiling serenely, Stiles walked over, placing a firm hand on his former friend’s shoulder. 

“So, a few little birdies told me that you were talking with a certain Elijah, and my mate and I just wanted to know how you two knew each other. For the security of the pack and all, you know. Just checking in.” 

His smile turned menacing. 

Scott suddenly got very uncomfortable. 

“I… I don’t know what you mean,” he stuttered, shifting beneath Stiles’ hand and gaze. 

Stiles tsked, and Derek pulled his chair in closer to the two, glaring harshly. 

"Please, Scott, you know better than to lie in a room full of werewolves, they'll hear you," Stiles mocked, a tight-lipped smile gracing his face.

Scott remained silent, staring pensively at the tile floor. 

"You know, Scott," Stiles began contemplatively, channeling some quirks he picked up from being possessed. "I've turned my cheek to your actions quite a few times. Do you care to list them all, or shall I?" 

Still, no response. 

"Let's keep it recent then, yeah? Well, there was the time you left me in a pool for two hours holding up my mate while you spent time with your girlfriend. Or the time I had to keep said mate, who was a wanted fugitive at the time, in my home because you were too busy with previously mentioned hunter girlfriend. Or when you used Derek, who, by the way, has been used enough don't you think, as a weapon against the man who kidnapped and tortured me without telling me, or him, your plan."

Stiles took a deep breath, stalking up to stand right in front of Scott. 

"Or, oh! I have a really good one. I want you to look me in the eye when I tell you this one," Stiles' voice was manic, full of rage, and gripped Scott's jaw, forcing him to look upwards. 

"I think this one's my favorite. Remember that one time when you went behind the entire fucking pack's back after rejecting your best friend's, your brother's, happiness, and set up some sort of deal with Elijah? Because I do, and I would just love," Stiles gritted out, "to hear all about that one in full detail, wouldn't you Derek?"

"All I wanted," Scott spat, "was to protect you." 

The grip Stiles had on Scott's jaw suddenly tightened, a bruising force. Stiles smiled at him menacingly, teeth grit and bared. 

"Protect me?" he asked with false pleasantry. "Protect me?" he roared. 

Scott violently tried to pull back, jerking in his seat. Without a word, the twins came up behind him and forced his shoulders to the back of the chair. 

"Don't struggle, okay man?" Ethan sighed, patting his shoulder harshly. 

"Yeah, it's not really... Getting us where our alpha and his mate need to go," Aiden bared his teeth, leaning in close to speak in Scott's ear. 

"Going around trying to intimidate people, Stiles?" Scott growled, "Your boyfriend has started rubbing off on you already." 

Stiles stood quietly, smiling sweetly, eyes locked on Scott's. He made no move to say anything, just waited for the boy to continue. 

"So what if I got Danny to dig around in Derek's past and pick a few key people out? Why do you care so much, Stiles?" 

"¿Son estás me jodiendo?" Derek mutters to himself, rolling his eyes, glowering at Scott. 

Stiles broke out of the character he had slipped into for a split second to stare at Scott like he was an idiot. 

"Are you stupid, Scott?" he asked, speaking slow, as if he were talking to a child. "Take a good second to think and then tell me why I care so much." 

"All I did was ask the guy to make you hate Derek like how you used to. Really, what's the big deal? It's just a dream. Who cares? Clearly it didn't work anyway." 

A moment of pure horror washed over Stiles. All of a sudden, the mask he had so carefully constructed had shattered into a million pieces. Covering his mouth with a hand, he pulled back from his place in front of Scott. Turning, he exited the room but not the house, the pungent smell of tears following him. 

"Go," Derek muttered to the twins, stock still, head tilted downwards, "get him outside, the rest of the pack is in the back."

The two teenagers flick their eyes up to their alpha, meeting his hard gaze with a nod before walking through to the backyard. They could see Isaac tightly wrapped around Stiles' shaking frame from the door, and they shared a look with pain ridden eyes.

Back in the house, Derek ran a clawed hand through his hair, gripping tightly before letting his hand drop down. He looked up at Scott, eyes blazing, "How could you do this to me Scott? I stuck my neck out for you, I called you my brother and taught you when your alpha was the psychotic shell of my uncle. I helped you survive. And this is how you repay me, repay Stiles?"

Derek stalked in front of Scott, steps slow and sure, allowing his wolf to have some of the control in this.

"You used my disgusting memories, my darkest secrets, our worst nightmares to what, get the best friend back that you drove away in the first place?"

He recognized that his volume was increasing, that his pack was bristling at his wickedly sharp tone, but he didn't care.

“Do you even know what memories Elijah ripped from my head? Do you know what Elijah made Stiles do?” he growled, leaning in close to Scott’s face. “Let me elaborate.” 

Scott’s eyes widened, as if even though he had planned these horrors, he had never really expected to hear them. 

“Imagine, you’re in a room. It’s dark and you’re chained to a wall. Your shoulders are burning and bits and pieces of metal are pressing into your back. You’ve been here before. You struggle, but you can’t move. Now, someone enters. It’s the person you love more than anything in the world, more than you ever thought you loved her. But just as you think they’re making a move to help you, they hurt you in ways only one other person has ever done to you before. Except now it’s ten times worse.” 

Scott’s face drained of color. 

“Now imagine yourself the other way around. It’s dark, and you’re lost. All of a sudden you enter a room, and your mate is there, chained to the wall. For a moment, you’re horrified. Who could have ever done this? But just as you move to help them, you veer to the side, against your will. And now, you’re trapped, unable to control yourself just as you were unable to control yourself under the hold of a demon. And you hurt him. You hurt the one you love and you can’t do anything about it but watch as your hands carve into skin words you may never be able to take back.” 

Scott was shaking by the end of Derek’s quiet, angry rant. At this point, Derek was full beta shift. His control was slipping and he couldn't seem to find a reason to hold himself back.

"You deserve everything that's coming for you, McCall. You deserve omega status, a pack doesn't deserve the be burdened with your betrayals and refusal to obey and alpha pair, let alone a solitary alpha. You deserve to see hatred every time you meet Stiles's eyes."

Derek was leaning on the armrests of Scott's chair, and Scott shrunk down below him. Derek was ready to put Scott in his place, to assert his place as alpha and defend his mate, when a strong hand landed on his shoulder.

"Derek," Peter said slowly, as if talking someone off a ledge, "you should know by now, of all people, that Scott is not worth your time. ¿Una maldita idiota, sí? God knows I should've went for your mate in the first place."

The man chuckled, earning a growl from Derek, but he relented backing away from Scott in stilted movements and out of the room, headed towards Stiles no doubt.

Peter, when he turned to follow, met Scott's gaze and flashes his blue eyes at the boy, "Just because Derek has his uncle back to how he remembers me, doesn't mean I don't remember who I was in between then and now. Do not cross my pack Scott McCall, you will regret it."

With those words, Peter left Scott to the bitter emptiness of the once cheerful room. He could hear them, smell how close together they were, smell how similar they all smelled, like how a family smelled similar but different at the same time. 

Sharp pangs of regret embedded themselves in his chest, feeling like they were cutting at his chest. 

Grunting, Scott pulled himself from the chair, rubbing his sweaty hands on the fabric of his jeans. _Maybe_ , he thought to himself. _Maybe it's time to grow up_. 

Making his way out of the kitchen, Scott walked through the house and onto the porch where he had the perfect view of the pack huddled closely together. Another wave of regret washed over him. 

Taking a step forward, the pack froze, snapping their heads to look at him menacingly. 

“Stiles,” he began cautiously, twiddling his thumbs, “I’m sorry for hurting you, but I can’t change what I did.” 

Emerging from the pack, Stiles began to approach him. Isaac made a futile attempt to pull him back, to keep him from getting closer to the source of all this pain, but Stiles pushed past him, coming to stand before the boy that had once claimed to be his best friend. 

“Scott,” he stated sagely. “Sorry can fix a lot of things. But sometimes, the phrase is nothing but a string of words that mean nothing. Sorry cannot fix this.” 

“I made a mistake. People make mistakes, Stiles.”

“Elijah won’t stop, Scott. You’ve given him the ammunition he needs and now he’s out to tear Derek and I apart because newsflash, he wants him for himself.”

Being surrounded by werewolves didn’t leave much anything of what Stiles was feeling in the dark. The pack could feel the increasing anxiety, and bitterness, and panic, and horrifically, the smallest hint of hatred, barely there and wavering. 

The wolves were on high alert, ready and willing to take Scott down by any means. Derek wanted to just rip Scott apart on the spot, but he had to trust that Stiles knew what he was doing when it came to the beta.

"But Stiles-" Scott tried, stepping forward, extending his hands. 

"No, Scott," he sighed, and very suddenly he felt old. "Maybe one day, many years from now, I can look past this and we can be friends again, but I will never look at you the same way, I will never forgive you, and I will never forget. But before any of that can even possibly be considered as a path to follow, I need to be purged of you. I need to learn how to live without you being my friend. And right now, I kind of want to kill you and hate your guts, so that would really put a damper on our mending relationship, wouldn’t it?” 

The thought of not having Scott around was like a punch to the chest. He'd been there since before Stiles' mom had died, and was by his side every day after, but his actions had reached a point that Stiles just couldn't handle. Scott being missing from his life would be difficult, but keeping him around in the present would be even harder.

Scott's eyes were wide shining dangerously with unshed tears, eyebrows high on his face and his jaw had dropped, "I, I truly am sorry. I just didn't want him to take you away from me."

Stiles deflated, Peter stepping forward to place a steady hand on his shoulder to keep him up. Isaac was wrapped around his alpha, the boy had Derek's head tucked into his neck to keep him sated.

Sparing one more glance at Scott before leaving with the pack in tow Stiles whispered under his breath, "You did that all yourself."


	9. Whet Your Knives

The pack gathered around the Stilinski household TV, laughing and giggling (blame that on Stiles and Isaac), the earlier horrors of the day almost forgotten. Almost. 

_My Babysitter’s a Vampire_ began to play, and Peter groaned. The twins shared a look of amusement at Peter's disdain, which earned Aiden a cuff to the back of the head from Lydia. Ethan squawked with a quick sound that could have been the laughter he was trying to hide from his brother.

“Tell me again why we’re watching this?” Peter griped, glaring menacingly at Stiles and Isaac, who was seated next to him on Stiles' couch. 

“It’s a classic!” Stiles exclaimed, lifting his head from its place on Derek’s shoulder. 

Peter rolled his eyes. 

“Stiles is right, Gilipollas,” Isaac teased, poking a finger into Peter's cheek and pressing in. “It’s a Disney classic!” 

Peter’s eyebrows shot up and Derek huffed softly in amusement. 

“Okay, one, did you really google how to say ‘asshole’ in Spanish just so you could call me that? And two, _My Babysitter’s a Vampire_ is _not_ a classic by any means of the word,” Peter deadpanned, lifting a hand to flick Isaac’s ear. 

Happily, the teen smiled, scooting to nudge the older man with his shoulder. 

“You love it,” he laughed, letting his head fall on the tip of Peter’s shoulder. 

“You, maybe, but this show? I could dismember whoever agreed to the idea.” 

Stiles and Derek stayed quiet as Isaac turned bright red, ducking his head slightly. Realizing what he may have just revealed, Peter stood a bit straighter, light pink dusting his cheeks, and stared intently at the screen. 

"My pups are in love," Stiles slipped out in a sing-song type voice and Peter let out a slow sound of embarrassment, like a futile plea for Stiles to leave it at that. He faced Derek with the cheesiest smile gracing his lips, and patted a hand against the wolf's chest, "Isn't that just the cutest thing you've ever seen in your gosh darn life."

Isaac had hidden his face in Peter's chest by this point, Stiles' blatant mocking, but sincere happiness, mortified him. 

Lydia was hiding her twinkling laughter behind her hands, but her amusement betrayed her in her eyes.

“Maybe we should give them a little _alone time_ ,” Stiles fake whispers, wiggling his eyebrows fiercely. 

“Stop with the the eyebrows, Stiles. You know they’ll never be as intense as mine,” Derek scolded dryly, and they both sat for a second in silence before Stiles started to laugh loudly, leaning on Derek, who was smiling, chuckling softly. 

Peter sat grazing his fingers over Isaac's back, and stared at his nephew in complete disbelief. He truly never thought he would see Derek so happy ever again. He could go as far as to say he hasn't seen Derek so simply free, well, since Paige.

Smiling softly down at Stiles, Derek finally understood the phrase, _it gets better_. For years, he resented that phrase, those words put specifically together to make people feel better. He always thought they were so meaningless. Thought that only fools truly believed them. But now, now he understands. He’s finally on his way to _better_.

His smile widened as Stiles laughed freely at something the girl said on the TV. How this boy, this man, is still so free, so positive and loving after all that he’s seen, all that he’s done, is beyond Derek. And God, does Derek love him like nothing else. 

Stiles snuck a glance a Derek only to be met with him already looking back. It's not that he wanted to discuss the imposing threat that was still upon them and their sanity, more so that they needed to, and it must've read on his face due to the look he got from his mate. He cocked his head slightly in question and Derek gave him a clipped nod and placed a quick peck on his forehead, before getting everyone's attention.

Reaching out, Derek flicked the TV off. 

“Hey!” Isaac cried. 

“You know, I was actually kind of getting into it.”

The alpha pair rolled their eyes at Peter. 

“We need to talk about what we’re going to do about our special… _situation_ ,” Stiles ventured reluctantly. 

The wolves tensed. They knew that this was coming, but they hoped to put it off for as long as possible. 

"With the information we've gained from Scott," Derek started, interrupted by an uncharacteristically fierce growl from Isaac at the other teen's name. "We now know for certain that Elijah is the cause of the return of Stiles', and my own, night terrors."

Stiles trembled at the mention of their linked torture. He had quick flashes of himself torturing Derek in the tunnels before he physically shook himself out of his deep thought. Derek gripped one of the shaking hands in his own and brought it to his lips before continuing. 

“So what are we going to do about it?” Aiden frowned, crossing his arms. 

Peter smiled. 

“I say we kill him.” 

The room sighed. 

“We could,” Stiles acknowledged, frowning deeply. “It’d be easy, too. But I have the feeling Elijah has done much more wrong than he’s done here. Maybe death would be too kind.” 

The pack paused for a moment, mulling over Stiles’ words. It was an interesting thought. Very _Stiles-esque_. 

“What could we do then?” Ethan leaned forward. “Why are we making things difficult when we could end things with a single blow.” 

Stiles looked to Derek, the slight curve in his shoulders, the tight wringing of his fingers around Stiles’, the tension lines, so much more pronounced, on his forehead. His lip pulled up in an uncharacteristic sneer. He leveled his gaze with the pack. 

“Because there are fates worse than death, and I want Elijah to have one.” 

Derek sighed, hating to disappoint, “I have to disagree with you Stiles, as much as I’d love to watch Elijah suffer, I can’t let us take the chance of him ever coming back. Our only option to prevent that is to kill him.”

The pack's full attention was on Stiles in that moment, awaiting his decision. An air of terror surrounded the wolves but also a sick sense of pride at seeing the boy's need for vengeance. 

Stiles could feel his newfound family waiting on baited breath for the reveal of what he had in mind for Elijah. He couldn't not let the man have anything other than a life of agony for what he had done to Derek, but his mate had a point. Stiles' eyes widened slightly at that particular thought. He knew Derek was a permanent part of his life, his only love, but Stiles himself had suffered at the hand of Elijah as well, and yet he couldn't seem to care less about himself.

“Sharpen your claws, pups,” Stiles smiled ferally as he nodded in agreement in Derek’s direction, catching a few exasperated groans from the pack, “we’re going on a hunt.” 

*****

“What are you doing?” 

Stiles rolled his eyes at Ethan. 

“For what I need to do, I need a circle. But I can’t have Elijah bursting in and breaking the circle I’d have to make _before_ he gets here. So I’m making it selectively permeable. A good circle is like a cell membrane.” 

“Did you seriously just compare a concept of witchcraft to science?” 

“Yes. Now shut up, I have to focus and you’re distracting me.” 

Ethan’s eyebrows hit his hairline. 

“Well then.” 

Coming up beside him, Lydia peers over at his altar. 

“How would you make the circle allow Elijah in though? The only breach in the circle that is allowed is the entrance of a familiar.” 

Stiles beamed at her. 

“Exactly! I just have to trick the circle into thinking that Elijah is a familiar.” 

She peered at him curiousy. 

“And how will you do that? You two hate each other. The relationship between familiar and witch is a loving one.” 

Stiles smiled mischievously. 

“Elijah may hate me, but he’s practically in love with Derek. I won’t be the one casting the circle, Derek will be.”

“But Derek’s not a witch,” Aiden piped up, seemingly appearing out of nowhere. 

“Jesus!” Stiles jumped. He groaned. “Oh my God, Aiden stop doing that!” 

“Sorry.” 

"I know that I'm technically your alpha now, but I'm not on your level yet," Stiles slapped a hand to his mouth, not intending to have shared that piece of information.

Lydia opened her mouth to comment, eyes mischieviously glowing, having caught what Stiles implied, when Stiles cut her off before she could even start.

"No. This is _so_ not the time to have this conversation. Okay? Okay."

The twins snorted. 

“Anyway, the fact that we’re mates allows for the transfer of power. It’s the reason we can be an Alpha Pair. If I can take his Alpha Power, then he can take my Spark. Equivalent Exchange.” 

“Did you just make a Fullmetal Alchemist reference?” 

“Shut up, Ethan! Yes!” 

Derek came in from the kitchen with a weary look on his face. 

“Ready?” Stiles asked quietly as Derek approached him, reaching up and carding a hand through his mate’s growing hair. Derek leaned into the touch, sighing softly. 

Derek grabbed the phone that was resting lightly in Stiles' other hand and crossed the apartment, shutting himself in the bedroom. He knew that Stiles would have an ear pressed against the door anyway, but sealing the room would hopefully make it easier. He turned his thoughts to what he never wished to think of again, needing to convince Elijah that he had successfully separated the couple, and dialed. Elijah picked up on the fifth tone, his voice airy as he addressed Derek, who was currently working himself into a panic attack over the nightmare that he had with Stiles.

"Eli," Derek sounded weak, his breath unsteady.

"Derek?" Elijah's voice was one filled with affectionate shock, "I didn't, I wasn't expecting you to call."

"I need you, Eli, Stiles-" Derek's breath violently hitched, "he betrayed me, he broke my trust. I shouldn't have let him in and, and I can't forgive him."

Elijah voiced what sounded like an empathetic whine.

"It's too much, please, get me out of here," and that's when Derek's tears started to fall. 

"Derek? Breathe love, you're at the apartment yes? I will come to you don't worry. I- I'll take you away from that bastard, make him pay for what he's done to you."

Derek heard Stiles' wet gasp outside the door, his body going slack against it, knees hitting the floor. Someone must've relayed the other half of the conversation to him. The sound of sobs and stuttered breaths reached Derek's ears and caused him to clenched tightly onto the phone and hold back his shift.

"Quickly, come quickly," ending the call Derek collapsed into a small form on the ground, crying out in agony from the memory of his torture by his mate. He cried out for Stiles' pain as well, and barely noticed when lithe arms wrapped around his trembling form.

"I... Can't do this," he trembled, leaning into Stiles' warmth. He thought of what he would say, the things he would need to do. It would break him. 

"You will," Stiles breathed, grasping Derek's hair to make the alpha look at him. "You can. Because this will save us both." 

Grinding his teeth harshly, Derek nodded, eyes hardening. The impending self hatred was nothing new. He pulled Stiles into a crushing kiss, the taste of his mate flooded his senses giving him a calm like no other. As Derek broke the kiss to take in the unmasked scent, Stiles let out a soft sigh of content.

"I love you," Derek whispered against the bolt of Stiles' jaw. It was the furthest thing from easy, to even envision what he may have to do to convince Elijah of his sincerity, but Derek would do anything to ensure his and Stiles' peace of mind. He pulled away and threaded Stiles' fingers with his own. Silently, they made their way to the door. Stiles turned quickly, and drew Derek into a tight embrace, one hand framing the back of his neck. 

"Do what you have to," he murmured, his thumb running repeatedly over the sensitive skin behind Derek's ear. He disentangled himself from the older man's body, skimming his hands down Derek's sides before leaving the room to put his part of the plan in motion.

It took some time for Elijah to appear; enough time for the pack to clear out and tuck themselves away and for Stiles to give him detailed instructions. 

Just as he was told, Derek closed his eyes. He could feel Stiles' presence, the connection they have pulsing steadily between them. 

He imagined a bright, shining light blooming in his chest. Bracing his feet on the floor, he felt the green energy of the earth pooling at his feet.

Sighing deeply, he paused, focusing on Stiles' Spark, praying it would work. 

"I cast this circle on this day to assure our grief goes away; with the help of the Goddess and the trust of the God, I pray my magick saves us all." 

He felt foolish, chanting the prayer that rhymed stupidly. He had fought with Stiles on it, but his mate was insistent that he say Stiles' old casting prayer to ensure that the circle was good and secure. 

Finally, Derek felt the energy fill the space Stiles had set up, and he heard Stiles' sigh of relief from the other room. 

The frantic knock at the door caught Derek off guard, still focused on his mate. He took a deep breath, crossed the apartment, and opened the door in a single fluid motion. While doing so, he placed a look of distraught on his face and simply hoped for the best. The wolf was quickly gathered into what was supposed to be a comforting embrace.

"He lied to me. He swore he wouldn't be like _her_ and I, I fucking believed him." Derek choked out a sob against Elijah's chest, fingers anchored into the back of the man's shirt.

"I should've known," Derek whined. "These fucking humans are all the same, weaving stories to reach their goals." He looked up at Elijah, eyes watering, the thought of Stiles listening in clouding his mind, "It's just too much."

Derek heard a sharp gasp come from Stiles, where he was hidden away. He let out a violent, uncontrollable sob. 

“I hate this,” he whimpered, no longer speaking to Elijah but to himself, his mate, his pack. “I hate this so much.”

“Shh, baby, it’s okay,” Elijah soothed, petting him on the head. “Humans are filthy, vile creatures. I’m glad you’ve come to see that you can trust no one, but me.” 

Gritting his teeth in disgust, Derek felt his tears drip off his chin and down his neck. As they dried they created the stiff, irritating feeling tears always left on his skin. He tasted salt on his lips, his nose assaulted by the hot smell. Violently, Derek shook his head, willing them to stop. There were too many tears, he was getting too upset, losing control. He couldn't handle it. 

Hidden in the closet, masked by a cloaking spell, Stiles took a deep, shuddering breath. He knew Derek could hear him, knew that no matter what spell he casted Derek would know it was him, and it broke his heart. He knew Derek would smell his tears, would be able to smell his sorrow. 

Pushing his conflictions aside, Stiles wiped his hands on his jeans. Kneeling by his altar, he focused on the small, flickering flame of his working candle. This spell was too big and complicated for him to forgo tradition. He needed all the power he could get. 

_“Freeze.”_

The world stopped. Not even the wind blew. Standing, Stiles chanted, _stay frozen like ice_ , repeatedly, making his way out of his hiding space. He came to a stop in front of Elijah and Derek, frowning deeply. He couldn’t help the small twinge of resentment in his chest. 

“Unfreeze those who purely love,” he sighed, placing his hand on Derek’s back. 

Pulling out of Elijah’s arms, Derek looked down in shame. 

“Stiles, I-” 

“It’s okay,” Stiles soothed unsteadily. It shouldn’t have been. The things he heard Derek say, though he knew that his mate didn’t mean them, hurt. And Stiles knew, like many things, the hurt would not go away alone. Eventually they would need to talk. 

“I know it’s not,” Derek whispered, reaching out a tentative hand to caress Stiles’ cheek. 

“It will be.” 

Pulling away, Stiles turned to face Elijah alone. 

Channeling all the power he could muster, smelling the thick scent of lavender and jade from his altar, Stiles locked his eyes on the changeling. 

Reaching into his pocket, Stiles pulled out a pouch of ground sage and frankincense. He smiled ferally, creating a circle around the changeling, knowing that just like mountain ash trapped wolves, these herbs did the same for a changeling. 

When the circle was completed, Stiles turned to his mate. 

“Ready?” he asked, casting a worried look towards Derek. 

Derek nodded grimly, steeling himself. 

Slowly, the world started to melt. The light breeze from the open door started up again, the light fluttering of the curtains at the window, the rise and fall of Elijah’s chest. The world was in motion again. 

“What… what did you do?” Elijah asked frantically, looking about himself in vague horror. 

Grasping a handful of the herbs left in his pouch, Stiles harshly threw the mixture at the changeling’s face. 

Elijah hissed and recoiled. 

“I’ll show you a fate worse than death,” he hissed, glaring angrily at the man who made his mate’s life go so horribly wrong. 

“You idiotic human, what can you do?” Elijah growled from his solitary place within the circle. 

“More than you could ever imagine,” Derek stepped forward, placing a loving hand firmly on Stiles’ shoulder. 

Gathering strength from his mate’s touch, Stiles began to chant. It started as a quiet murmuring, a low hum. Then it grew louder, gaining power and confidence as Stiles continued on. As more words spilled from his lips, Elijah grew tired, and weak. His stance in the circle wilted to a crouch, his knees hitting the floor harshly. 

“The fuck are you doing, kid?” he ground, glaring furiously at Stiles’ looming figure.

Stiles smiled serenely, reaching over and patting the changeling’s head gently, as if he were a child as he continued to chant. 

If anyone were to ask Stiles he’d say that he was feeling a lot like Avatar Aang in the final episode and it was pretty damn great. It’s like the battle at Wulong forest and he’s pumped for the big finish. 

“I’ve taken away your firebending,” Stiles stated dramatically, staring Elijah in the eyes. 

“What?” both Elijah and Derek mutter, staring at the human. 

Stiles sighs deeply and rolled his eyes. 

“My references are useless around you two,” he groaned, then sobered quickly. 

"Welcome to human mortality Elijah. It's really quite a quaint existence, too bad you seem to despise it so greatly."

Elijah pinned Stiles with a glare of both despair and disgust. "How could you do this to me? Derek, you let this happen? Why?"

"I'm sorry," Derek murmured, looking over his old friend. There was a time where he couldn't imagine raising a single finger against the man, but he had gone too far.

Stiles, for the second time, froze the changeling, and conversely set him aflame not a moment later.


	10. Epilogue

The house had been finished for months now, Derek and Stiles having moved in while the interior was still mere sheetrock and freshly sealed cedar flooring.

Isaac stayed in his room a few nights a week, though most nights it ended up as a group cuddle session on the alpha pair's california king. On the days he wasn't there he could usually be found wrapped up in Peter's arms in the loft Derek had left behind almost a full year ago.

Derek still couldn't get used to seeing Stiles go about his daily life right by his side in their home. Most days he found he would just stop himself to take it all in, watching Stiles chew his lip as he got too into his favorite shows, or folding laundry while simultaneously dancing around the room because _"laundry is boring without my tunes babe."_

He was currently watching Stiles in the kitchen, mumbling lyrics to what Derek thought was Ozzy's "Crazy Train", he had learned not to question it anymore. His mate was working out of his mom's handwritten cookbook with all of her old recipes inside, and he noticed bits of flour stuck in Stiles' hair and on his face. Everything about this moment was so _Stiles_ , Derek couldn't stop a secret smile from creeping into his face.

He walked through the open archway into the kitchen, Stiles so lost in his head that he didn't even notice him. A light bark of laughter escaped Derek, not expecting anything less from the the human. 

He continued his silent approach until he was close enough to wrap his arms around Stiles' waist from behind. He felt the boy jump, before quickly relaxing further back into Derek's chest. 

"Hey," Stiles beamed, turning to plant a kiss to Derek's cheek where his head was resting on Stiles' shoulder.

"Hi," Derek responded, punctuating his greeting with a nip of his teeth to Stiles's throat, which caused his mate's eyes to flutter in an attempt to stay open.

Derek found that it still hadn't set in, that having Stiles here pressed against him just couldn't be what he got in the end. It was more than he could have ever wished for, and usually he got the exact opposite of that.

"This really is what you want isn't it?" Derek marveled, still baffled that Stiles loved him as much in return as he loved Stiles. 

"Are you crazy?" Stiles exclaimed, spinning in Derek's arms to look at his stupidly beautiful face. "Derek, _I'm in love with you_. I couldn't imagine spending my life anywhere else with anyone else. I've said it to my dad and I'll say it to you, there will be no other guys or girls. Hell, there won't be any other supernatural creatures either. You are it for me, my mate." 

Stiles took a deep breath, looking down before continuing, emotion getting the best of him and causing his eyes to well up with tears. 

"How could I not want this? How can you have any doubts about us with all of your instincts, everything you can feel? How could I not want this when, when maybe I want to feel those things too?" Stiles finished, looking up at Derek through his eyelashes. 

"Are you- do you mea- Dios mío." 

Derek tried desperately to find the words to finish his question, but his emotions were running rampant. If Stiles was opening himself to what Derek assumed, then, then he would be able to fully become one with Stiles, truly share his pack and himself the way a wolf was meant to.

"I want to wear your mark, Derek, a permanent one. I want to lead the pack by your side. I want to feel the energy of our pups running through my veins. I've been teaching Lydia the tricks of my trade since magic won't be as simple for me if you accept my request. I've really thought this through, before you try to question my dedication again. I want to be with you in all means of the word. I- will you turn me?"

Derek let out a shuddering breath, his lungs not seeming to cooperate. His eyes crinkled in the corners, brimming with tears of his own. 

"Yes." He sighed against Stiles's lips, "Yes. Yes. Yes," punctuating his confirmations with quick pecks to the boy's obscene mouth. 

Stiles let out a burst of bubbling laughter, tears streaming freely as his emotions ran on high. He kissed Derek deeply, running his tongue along his mate's teeth.

"Shift for me, love." Stiles coaxed easily. Derek went through the change before his eyes, and even still he was baffled at how beautiful the wolf still was.

Derek could see the reflection of his ruby eyes in Stiles' own mirroring a sparkling brandy. The boy touched his nose against Derek’s, his eyes gleaming and mouth quirking into a blinding grin. He leaned in and lapped along the length of one of Derek’s elongated canines causing matching shivers to travel through the pair. Derek sealed a kiss to Stiles’ lips, his fangs pressing against the inside of his mouth, tasting the blood where the points broke skin. Breaking quickly, Derek nipped at the bolt of Stiles’ jaw and nosed along the column of his mate’s neck. Stiles couldn’t stop the moan that escaped from his parted lips. 

Derek’s hands worked deftly on Stiles’ plaid shirt, getting the buttons open quickly with grace. He threw the shirt blindly, not caring where it ended up in the room. Derek groaned when he wasn’t met with Stiles’ freckled skin, but another fucking shirt. His patience was wearing thin, if he even had any to begin with, so he took a clawed finger and ran it quickly down from the collar to just above Stiles’ waistband. 

“Hey-”

Derek cut him off with a sharp growl and a quick snap of his teeth. The shredded shirt fell to the floor and Derek was finally granted with the sight he had been waiting for. He took a moment to look his mate over, eyes catching on all the different patterns of moles and the occasional scar. He was drawn to the pink flesh of Stiles’ bullet wound, placing a kiss over it as if to will it away along with the torturous memories that came with it.

He dragged his teeth up to just outside of the dip of Stiles’ collarbone and bathed in the feel of the teen shivering against him in waves of pleasure. 

He pressed himself further up against Stiles, moaning at the feel of the prominent bulge of the boy's erection against his own. One hand strayed from its position on Stiles' hip, trailing up his torso only to pinch and work one of his pert nipples which sent him writhing against Derek, panting in ecstasy.

Derek's fangs were lightly grazing the skin of his mate's shoulder, he occasionally paused to lick and suck at the skin to watch the bruising color rise to the surface. 

"Derek, please," Stiles said breathless, begging for both the bite and his release.

Derek fit a thigh between Stiles' own legs, giving him enough friction to feverishly rut against him. He took the skin of Stiles' shoulder between his teeth, mouthing at it, teasing the boy.

"Mine," Derek growled before sinking his teeth into Stiles' flesh.

His mate came with a shout mixed with both pain and pleasure. Stiles went slack against him, occasionally letting out whines low in his throat.

Derek could feel their energy mixing and that combined with the sinful sounds Stiles was making was enough to push him over the edge as he climaxed with a deep groan and ground down against the layers covering Stiles' over sensitized cock.

He carefully retracted his fangs from Stiles' shoulder, lapping at the wound to soothe the skin. 

He couldn't help but admire his mark as he swept Stiles up in his arms bringing him up to their room. The bite mark of a mate would not heal, it would leave a scarred replica of what it was now in its place to act as a permanent claim on his other half.

Stiles was in a daze as Derek sat him on their bed and went to grab a washcloth to clean themselves up. He came back and stripped both himself and Stiles, quickly running the cloth across both of them. He grabbed two pairs of boxers from the dresser and put one on and helped Stiles into his own before lying them both down, Derek at Stiles' back.

Stiles faded into the welcoming embrace of sleep, the last thing he felt being a light press of Derek's lips to his shoulder.

•••••

Stiles first noticed a strong scent caramel and ash when he woke the next morning. He was hooked, addicted to the smell that he could only guess was one hundred percent Derek. He slowly opened his eyes and was met with the sight of Derek beaming at him, his rainbow eyes soft with affection. 

Derek lightly traced the tip of his finger along his mark causing Stiles' mouth to drop open and his eyes to flutter shut. 

"How do you feel?" Derek whispered, Stiles could smell the taint of worry and concern on him.

"Anchored. Connected. I feel so much closer to you; I'm feeling a lot right now actually. I don't think I've heard anything more beautiful than the rhythm of your heartbeat."

"Let me see you."

Stiles concentrated on the change, remembering what Derek used to tell him when he had questions about the pack. He knew when his eyes flashed, and could feel the faint descent of his canines as well as a shift in his facial structure. It should've felt weird, but it was nothing less than natural. 

Derek let out a small gasp, "Your wolf is gorgeous, Stiles. Breathtaking."

The usual whiskey gaze was now crimson like his own, but the fur on the side of Stiles' face was fine and dark like molasses. His top right canine hung over his lip and Derek couldn't help but view him as a puppy. He drew him in and rubbed his forehead against Stiles'. Stiles tipped his head down and pressed his lips to Derek's in a simple peck.

"Mine." He breathed against Derek's lips.

Derek couldn't help but let out a quiet laugh. He never could've imagined his life taking a turn into such bliss.

"Yours."

**Author's Note:**

> [Hey click here to explore HeartxOfxStone's blog](http://hisvoicebrokemyheart.tumblr.com/)
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> OR
> 
>  
> 
> [Click here to explore Flutterbye_5's blog](http://butimnotinyour.tumblr.com/)


End file.
